itbrary  of 
Uninersitg  of  Hortb  (Carolina 


KENAN   MEMORIAL    COLLECTION 

I  N     M  E  M  O  R  Y     0  I' 

WILLIAM   RAND   KENAN 

given   by   his  daughter 

MARY  LILY    KENAN    FLAGLER 


Devoted   to  the   History  of  the  South  in 
Tli.'    Civil     War 


v-v^ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


fyEEKS 
I    FIVE 

out  on 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


m 


MY    SOUTHERN    FRIENDS 


UXIFORX   WITE  THIS    VOLUME, 

And    by    the    same    Author, 
"AMONG  THE  PINES." 

{Fortieth  T/iou&and.) 
Price  $1  00. 


MY 


SOUTHERN  FRIENDS. 


ALL  OF  WHICH  I  SAW,  AXD  PART  OF  WHICH  I  WA.S.'1 


BY 


EDMUND  KIEKE, 

.UTHOR     OF     "AMONG     TIIK     PINES, 


j 


S& 


NEW  YORK : 
THE    TRIBUNE    ASSOCIATION. 

M.DCCC.LXIII. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S63,  by 

GEORGE   W.  CARLETON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  York. 


ft.   CEAIGHEAD, 
Printer,  Siereoiyper,  and  Electrotyper, 

Cavion  Sluicing, 

81,  83,  and  85  Centre  Street. 


TO 


CHARLES  GODFREY  LELAND, 


MY      FRIEND, 


AND   THE   FRIEND    OF   EYEEY   MAN   WHO    "WOULD   EXALT   LABOK, 


AND     DIGNIFY     THE     LABOEEK, 


g  griicaie  ifeb  gooh. 


THE    AUTHOR, 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

CHAPTER  I. — N«W  York  after  Dark. — A  Ballad  Boy. — A  House 

in  Anthony  Street. — A  Sick  Woman. — Strange  Guests,  .  .       9 

CHAPTER  II.— The  Dying  Mother.— A  Strange  Story.— A  Moth- 
er's Blessing,         .  .  .  .  .  .  .20 

CIIAPTER  III.— A   Stage-Coach    Adventure. — "Squire  Preston, 
of  Jones." — An  Outside  Passenger. — An  Overturn,  and  its  Con- 
sequences.— Tom's  Store. — An  Unexpected  Meeting,        .  .41 
CIIAPTER   IV. — The    Negro-Trader. — A   Turkey  Match. — Nine- 
teenth Century  Civilization.-,-"  A  Prime  Lot." — Almost  a  Duel,     55 
CIIAPTER   V.— A   Slave    Sale.— "  The  Most   Perfectest   Gal  in 

Seven  State3."— Her  History.— Two  Hours  of  Agony,         .         .     10 
CHAPTER  VI.— On  the  Road.— A  Southern  Inn.—"  Poor  Trash." 

—Snuff  Dipping.— Sale  of  a  White  Man,  .  .  .83 

CHAPTER  VII.— A  Slave  Mother. — "  Young  Joe."— City  Negro- 
Quarters.— "Am  de  Chile  Free?"  .  .  .  -94 
CHAPTER  VIII.— On  the  Plantation. — A  Southern  Gentleman.— 

The  Mansion.— A  Beautiful  Child.—"  Old  Joe,"  .  .  .  102 

CHAPTER  IX.— Plantation  Management.— An  Old  Preacher.— 

A  Black  Overseer.— A  Cute  Darky.— A  Hard  Master,      .  .109 

CHAPTER  X.— A  Southern  Woman.— A   Ministering  Angel.— A 

Black  Bookkeeper,  .  .  .  •  •  .124 

CHAPTER  XI.— The  Negro  Meeting.— A  Log  Church.— A  Fash- 
ionable Prayer. — A  Negro  Sermon. — Eccentric  Exhortation,       .  137 
CIIAPTER  XII.— Black  Clairvoyance.— Joe's  House.— His  Moth- 
er.— Black  Prophecy,        ....••  1-4^ 

CHAPTER  XIII.— A  Schoolmistress  and  a  Wife. — Advertising 
for  a  Governess. — The  "  Schulemarm." — A  Death  and  a  Wed- 
dinjr.  ....••••  156 

CHAPTER  XIV.— Frank.— Correspondence,  .  .  .165 


8  CONTEXTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XV.— Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.— The  Old  Warehouse.— 

John  Hallet. — Tardy  Repentance,  .  .  .  .168 

CHAPTER  XVI.—  Selma.—  A  Shrew  that  Would  n't  be  Tamed.— 

Selma  at  the  Opera,  ......  177 

CHAPTER    XVII.— A  Plantation    Christmas.— Distributing  the 

Presents. — An  Outdoor  Breakdown. — A  Happy  Mother-in-Law. 

—A  Five-Thousand-Dollar  Turn-out,         .  .  .  .186 

CHAPTER  XVIII.— Family  Jars.— The  Governess  in  a  Passion,  .  197 
CHAPTER   XIX.—  The   Negro  Wedding.— Grinning  Darkness.— 

Joe's  Address. — White  Serving,  .....  200 
CHAPTER    XX.— A  Deathbed.— Silent   Quarters.— "  The   Ruling 

Passion  Strong  in  Death,"  .  .  .  .  .210 

CHAPTER  XXI. — Southern    Chivalry. — Model  Negro-Houses. — 

A  Slave-Whipping,  .  .  .  .  .  .214 

CHAPTER    XXII. — Difficulties. — An    Unnatural    Connection. — 

"Bread"  that  "  Returned  after  Many  Days,"        .  .  .222 

CHAPTER    XXHL— A    Sudden    Dissolution.— A     "Character" 

Worth  $30,000.— A  Disclosure,    .  .  .  .  .234 

CHAPTER  XXIV.— A  Hurried  Journey.— Horses  "  Scarcer  than 

Hens'  Teeth,"         .  .  .  .  .  .  .247 

CHAPTER  XXV.— Truth  that  is  Stranger  than  Fiction.— The 

Story  of  Selma. — A  Brave  Negress,  ....  253 

CHAPTER  XXVI.— The  Negro  Sale.— Mrs.  Preston's  Mishaps.— 

"  The  Sins  of  the  Fathers  are  Visited  upon  the  Children." — A 

Bad  Tree  that  Bore  Good  Fruit. — Hallet  Unmasked,        .  .  259 

CHAPTER  XXVII.— The  Lynching.— Gaston  as  Judge.— Larkin 

as  Counsel. — Mulock  gets  his  Deserts,  ....  280 
CHAPTER  XXVIII.— "Dead!    Dead  !"—"  Would  You  have  Me 

Marry  a  Slave  ?  " — A  Terrible  Dream,      .  .  .  .291 

CHAPTER  XXIX. — Conclusion. — In  which  the  Author  does  not 

do  Justice  to  all  of  his  Characters,  ....  299 

Last  Words,  ........ 


MY    SOUTHERN    FRIENDS 


CHAPTER    I 


NEW     YORK     AFTER     DARK 


The  clock  of  St.  Paul's  was  sounding  eight  Buttoning 
my  outside  coat  closely  about  me — for  it  was  a  cold,  stormy 
night  in  November — I  descended  the  steps  of  the  Astor  House 
to  visit,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  the  blue-eyed  young 
woman  who  is  looking  over  my  shoulder  while  I  write  this. 
It  was  nearly  twenty  years  ago,  but  she  is  young  yet ! 

As  I  closed  the  outer  door,  a  small  voice  at  my  elbow,  in 
a  tone  broken  by  sobs,  said : 

11  Sir — will  you — please,  sir — will  you  buy  some  ballads  ?  " 

11  Ballads  !  a  little  fellow  like  you  selling  ballads  at  this 
time  of  night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  haven't  sold  only  three  all  day,  sir.  Do, 
please,  sir,  do  buy  some  !  "  and  as  he  stood  under  the  gas 
burner  which  lit  the  hotel  porch,  I  saw  that  his  face  was  red 
with  weeping. 

"  Come  inside,  my  little  man  ;  don't  stand  here  in  the  cold. 
Who  sends  you  out  on  nights  like  this  to  sell  ballads  ?  " 
1* 


10  MY      SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  Xobody,  sir ;  but  mother  is  sick,  and  I  have  to  sell  'em  ! 
She's  had  nothing  to  eat  all  day,  sir.  Oh  !  do  buy  some — do 
buy  some,  sir  !  " 

"  I  will,  my  good  boy.     But  tell  me,  have  you  no  father  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  I  never  had  any  ;  and  mother  is  sick,  very  sick, 
sir ;  and  she's  nobody  to  do  anything  for  her  but  me — nobody 
but  me,  sir !  "  and  he  cried  as  if  his  very  heart  would  break. 

"  Don't  cry,  my  little  boy,  don't  cry.  I'll  buy  your  ballads 
— all  of  them  ; "  and  I  gave  him  two  half-dollar  pieces — all  the 
silver  I  had. 

"  I  haven't  got  so  many  as  that,  sir ;  I  haven't  got  only 
twenty,  and  they're  only  a  cent  apiece,  sir ; "  and  with  very 
evident  reluctance  he  tendered  me  back  the  money. 

14  Oh  !  never  mind,  my  boy  ;  keep  the  money,  and  the  bal- 
lads too." 

"  Oh,  sir !  thank  you,  sir !  Mother  will  be  so  glad,  sir !  " 
and  he  turned  to  go  ;  but  his  feelings  overpowering  him,  he 
hid  his  little  face  in  the  big  blanket-shawl  which  he  wore,  and 
sobbed  louder  and  harder  than  before. 

"  "Where  does  your  mother  live,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  Round  in  Anthony  street,  sir.  Some  good  folks  there 
give  her  a  room,  sir."  - 

11  Did  you  say  she  was  sick  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  very  sick.  The  doctor  says  she  can't  live  only 
a  little  while,  sir." 

"And  what  will  become  of  you  when  she  is  dead  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  Mother  says  God  will  take  care  of 
me,  sir." 

"  Come,  my  little  fellow,  don't  cry  any  more.  I'll  go  with 
you,  and  see  your  mother." 


N E W      Y  0 B K     AFTER     DARK 


11 


"Oh!  thank  you,  sir.  Mother  will  be  bo  glad  to  have 
you— so  glad  to  thank  you,  sir;"  and,  looking  up  timidly  in 
my  face,  he  added  :    "  You'll  love  mother,  sir !  " 

I  took  his  hand  in  mine,  and  we  went  out  into  the  storm. 

He  was  not  more  than  seven  years  old,  and  had  a  bright, 
intelligent,  but  pale  and  peaked  face.     He  wore  thin,  patched 

.  ,18,  a  small,  ragged  cap,  and  large,  tattered  boots,  and 
over  his  shoulders  was  a  worn  woollen  shawl.  I  could  not 
see  the  remainder  of  his  clothing,  but  I  afterward  discovered 
that  a  man's  waistcoat  was  his  only  other  garment. 

As  I  have  said,  it  was  a  bleak,  stormy  night.  The  rain, 
which  had  fallen  all  the  day,  froze  as  it  fell,  and  the  sharp 
wintry  wind  swept  down  Broadway,  sending  an  icy  chill  to 
my  very  bones,  and  making  the  little  hand  I  held  in  mine 
tremble  with  cold.  We  passed  several  blocks  in  silence,  when 
the  child  turned  into  a  side  street. 

"My  little  fellow,"  I  said,  "this  is  not  Anthony  street— 
that  is  further  on." 

"  I  know  it,  sir  ;  but  I  want  to  get  mother  some  bread,  sir. 
A  good  gentleman  down  here  sells  it  to  me  very  cheap,  sir." 

We  crossed  a  couple  of  streets,  and  stopped  at  a  corner 

grocery. 

"Why,  my  little  'un,"  said  the  large,  red-faced  man  behind 
the  counter,  "I  didn't  know  what  had  become  of  ye!  Why 
haven't  ye  ben  here  to-day  ?  " 

"I  hadn't  any  money,  sir,"  replied  the  little  boy. 

"An  haven't  ye  had  any  bread  to-day,  sonny?" 

"Mother  hasn't  had  any,   sir.      A  hale  bit  was  left  lust 
night,  but  she  made  me  eat  that,  sir." 
°  u  D__n  lt,  an'  hasn't  she  had  any  all  day  ?     Ye  mustn't  do 


12  MY     SOUTHERN     PBIEND8. 

that  agin,  eonny  ;  ye  must  come,  Whether  yeVe  money  or  no. 

Times  is  hard,  but,  1  swear,  I  kin  giveyoualoaf  any  time." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,''  I  said,  advancing  from  the  doorway, 
where  I  had  stood  unobserved  ;  "  I  will  pay  you  ; "  and  taking 
a  roll  of  bills  from  my  pocket,  I  gave  him  one.  "  You  know 
what  they  want ;  send  it  to  them  at  once." 

The  man  stared  at  me  for  a  moment,  then  said  : 

"  Do  ye  know  'em,  sir  ?  " 

11  No  ;  I  am  just  going  there." 

"Well,  do,  sir;  they're  bad  off.  Ye  kin  do  real  good 
there,  no  mistake." 

11  I'll  see,"  I  replied  ;  and  taking  the  bread  in  one  hand, 
and  the  little  boy  by  the  other,  I  again  started  for  his  mother's. 
I  was  always  a  rapid  walker,  but  I  had  difficulty  in  keeping  up 
with  the  little  fellow  as  he  trotted  along  at  my  side. 

We  soon  stopped  at  the  door  of  an  old,  weather-worn 
building,  which  I  saw  by  the  light  of  the  street  lamp  was  of 
dingy  brick,  three  stories  high,  and  hermetically  sealed  by 
green  board  shutters.  It  stood  but  one  step  above  the  ground, 
and  a  dim  light,  which  came  through  the  low  basement  win- 
dows, showed  that  eyen  its  cellar  was  occupied.  My  little 
guide  rang  the  bell,  and  in  a  moment  a  panel  of  the  door 
opened,  and  a  shrill  voice  asked  : 

"  Who's  there  ?  " 

"  Only  me,  ma'am.  Please  let  me  in." 
"  What !  you,  Franky,  out  so  late  as  this  !  "  exclaimed  the 
woman,  undoing  the  chain  which  held  the  door.  As  she  was 
about  to  close  it,  she  caught  sight  of  me,  and  eying  me  for  a 
moment,  said  :  "  Walk  in,  sir."  As  I  complied  with  the  invi- 
tation, she  added,  pointing  to  a  room  opening  from  the  hall : 
'•  Step  in  there,  sir." 


B  i:  W     YORK     ATT  B  B    Dill,  13 

u  He's  come  to  poo  mother,  ma'am,"  said  th^  little  boy. 

11  You  can't  Bee  h>  r.  sir;  e  and  don't  see  company 

any  more." 

11  I  wish  to  soo  her  for  only  a  moment,' madam." 

"  But  she  can't  see  nobody  now,  sir." 

"  Oh  !  mother  would  like  to  see  him  very  much,  ma'am  ; 
he's  a  very  good  gentleman,  ma'am,"  said  the  child,  in  a  plead- 
ing, winning  tone. 

The  real  object  of  my  visit  seemed  to  break  upon  the 
woman,  for,  making  a  low  courtesy,  she  said  : 

"  Oh  !  she  icill  be  glad  to  see  you,  sir  ;  she's  very  bad  off, 
very  bad  indeed , "  and  she  led  the  way  at  once  to  the  base- 
ment stairway. 

The  woman  was  about  forty,  with  a  round,  full  form,  a  red 
bloated  face,  and  eyes  which  looked  as  if  they  had  not  known 
a  wink  of  sleep  for  years.  She  wore  a  dirty  lace  cap,  trimmed 
with  gaudy  colors,  and  a  tawdry  red  and  black  dress,  laid  off 
in  large  squares,  like  the  map  of  Philadelphia.  It  was  very 
low  in  the  neck — remarkably  so  for  the  season — and  disclosed 
a  scorched,  florid  skin,  and  a  rough,  mountainous  bosom. 

The  furnishings  of  the  hall  had  a  shabby-genteel  look,  till 
we  reached  the  basement  stairs,  when  everything  became  bare, 
and  dark,  and  dirty.  The  woman  led  the  way  down,  and 
opened  the  door  of  a  front  room — the  only  one  on  the  floor, 
the  rest  of  the  space  being  occupied  as  a  cellar.  The  room 
had  a  forlorn,  cheerless  appearance.  Its  front  wall  was  of 
naked  brick,  through  which  the  moisture  had  crept,  dotting  it 
every  here  and  there  with  large  water-stains  and  blotch- 
mould  ;  and  its  other  sides  were  of  rough  boards,  placed  up- 
right, and  partially  covered  with  a  soiled,  ragged  paper.      Its 


14  MY     SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

• 

floor  was  of  wide,   unpainted  plank.     A  huge  chimney  stack 
protruded  some  three  feet  into  the  room,  and  in  it  was  a  hole 
which  admitted  the  pipe  of  a  rusty  air-tight  stove,  that 
out  just  enough  heat4o  take  the  chill  edge  off  the  damp,  b 
atmosphere.      This   stove,    a  small   stand    resting    against  the 
wall,  a  broken-backed  chair,  and  a  low,  narrow  bed  cc 
with  a  ragged  patchwork  counterpane,  were  the  only  furniture 
of   the  apartment.      And   that   room   was  the  home   of   two 
human  beings. 

11  How  do  you  feel  to-night,  Fanny  ?  "  asked  the  woman, 
as  she  approached  the  low  bed  in  the  corner.  There  was  a 
reply,  but  it  was  too  faint  for  me  to  hear. 

"  Here,  mamma,"  said  the  little  boy,  taking  me  by  the 
hand  and  leading  me  to  the  bedside,  "  here's  a  good  gentleman, 
who's  come  to  see  you.  He's  very  good,  mamma  ;  he's  given 
me  a  whole  dollar,  and  got  you  lots  of  things  at  the  store;  oh  ! 
lots  of  things  !  "  and  the  little  fellow  threw  his  arms  around 
liis  mother's  neck,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again  in  his  joy. 

The  mother  turned  her  eye  upon  me — such  an  eye  !  It 
seemed  a  black  flame.  And  her  face — so  pale,  so  wan,  so 
woebegone,  and  yet  so  wildly,  strangely  beautiful — seemed 
that  of  some  fallen  angel,  who,  after  long  ages  of  torment,  had 
been  purified,  and  fitted  again  for  heaven  !  And  it  Avas  so. 
She  had  suffered  all  the  woe,  she  had  wept  for  all  the  sin,  and 
then  she  stood  white  and  pure  before  the  everlasting  gates 
which  were  opening  to  let  her  in  ! 

She  reached  me  her  thin,  weak  hand,  and  in  a  low  voice 
said  :    "  I  thank  you,  sir." 

"  You  are  welcome,  madam.  You  are  very  sick ;  it  hurts 
you  to  speak  ?  " 


N B W      YORK      AFTER      DARK.  15 

She  nodded  slight1}-,  but  said  nothing.      I  turned  to  the 
hi  who  had  admitted  me,  and  in  a  low  tone  said  : 
Baw  a  person  die  j  La  ahe  not  dying?" 

'•  No,  air,  I  guess  not.  She's  seemed  so  for  a  good  many 
days." 

••  Has  ahe  had  a  physician  ?  " 

"Not  for  ni'di  a  month.  A  doctor  come  once  or  twice,  but 
he  said  it  want  no  use — he  couldn't  help  her." 

14  But  she  should  have  help  at  once.  Have  you  any  one 
you  can  send  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes ;  I  can  manage  that.  What  doctor  will  you 
have  ?  " 

I  wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper  the  name  of  an  acquaintance — 
a  skilful  and  experienced  physician,  who  lived  not  far  off — and 
gave  it  to  her. 

44  And  can't  you  make  her  a  cup  of  tea,  and  a  l^tle  chicken 
broth  ?     She  has  had  nothing  all  day." 

14  Nothing  all  day  !  I'm  sure  I  didn't  know  it !  I'm  poor, 
sir — you  don't  know  how  poor — but  she  shan't  starve  in  my 
house." 

"  I  suppose  she  didn't  like  to  speak  of  it ;  but  get  her  some- 
thing as  soon  as  you  can.     I'll  pay  you  for  your  trouble." 

''I  don't  want  any  pay,  sir,"  she  replied,  as  she  turned  and 
darted  from  the  doorway  as  nimbly  as  if  she  had  not  been  fat 
and  forty. 

She  soon  returned  with  the  tea  and  broth,  and  gave  them 
to  the  sick  girl,  a  spoonful  at  a  time,  she  being  too  weak  to  sit 
up.  She  had  tasted  nothing  of  the  kind  for  weeks,  and  it 
greatly  revived  her. 

After  a  time,  the  doctor  came.     He  felt  her  pulse,  asked 


1 G  MY     BOtTTHEBN     FRIENDS. 

her  a  few  questions  in  a  low  tone,  and  then  wrote  some  simple 
directions.  When  he  had  done  that,  he  turned  to  me,  and 
said  :    "  Step  outside  for  a  moment ;  I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

As  we  passed  out,  the  woman  said  to  us  : 

"  Gentlemen,  don't  stand  in  the  cold.  Walk  up  into  the 
parlor — the  front  room." 

We  did  as  she  suggested,  for  the  cellar  way  had  a  damp, 
unhealthy  air. 

The  parlor  was  furnished  in  a  showy,  tawdry  style,  and  a 
worn,  ugly,  flame-colored  carpet  covered  its  floor.  A  coal  fire 
was  burning  in  the  grate,  and  we  sat  down  by  it.  As  we  did 
so,  I  heard  loud  voices,  mingled  with  laughter  and  the  clinking 
of  glasses,  in  the  adjoining  room.  Not  appearing  to  notice  the 
noises,  the  doctor  asked  : 

"  "Who  is  this  woman  ?  " 

"  I  don'^know  ;  I  never  saw  her  before.     Is  she  dying  ?  " 

"  Xo  ;  not  now.  But  she  can't  last  long ;  a  week,  at  the 
most." 

"  She  is  evidently  in  consumption.  That  damp  cellar  has 
killed  her ;  she  should  be  got  out  of  it." 

"  The  cellar  hasn't  done  it ;  her  very  vitals  are  eaten  up. 
She's  been  be}Tond  cure  for  many  months  !  " 

"  Is  it  possible  ?     And  such  a  woman  !  " 

"  Oh  !  I  see  such  cases  every  day — women  as  fine-looking 
as  she  is." 

In  a  moment  he  rose  to  go,  saying :  "I  can  do  nothing 
more.     But  what  do  you  intend  to  do  here  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  can  be  done.  She  should  not  .be  left 
to  die  there." 

"  She'd  prefer  dying  above  ground,  no  doubt ;  and  if  you 


N  E  W     TOI  K     A  V  I  E  B     D  AUK.  17 

reKsh  Beering,  you'll  get  her  an  upper  room  ;  but  she  must  die 
soon,  and  a  day  01  two,  more  01  leas,  down  there,  won't  make 
Uy  difference.  Take  my  advice—don't  throw  your  money 
rimy,  and  don't  stay  here  too  late;  the  bouse  ha,  a  very  hard 
nan,-,  and  some  of  its  rough  <  would  think  nothing  of 

throttling  a  spruee  young  fellow  like  you." 

"  1  thank  you,  doctor ;  but  I  think  I'll  run  the  risk— at  least 
for  a  whUe,"  and  I  laughed  good-humoredly  at  the  benevolent 
gentleman's  caution. 

"  Well,  if  you  lose  your  small  change,  don't  charge  it  to 
me."     Saying  this,  he  bade  me  "  good  night." 

He  found  the  door  locked,  barred,  and  secured  by  the  large 
chain,  and  was  obliged  to  summon  the  woman.     When  she 
had  let  him  out,  I  asked  her  into  the  parlor. 
u  Who  is  this  sick  person  ?  "  I  inquired. 
'•I   don't  know,    sir.      She   never  gave  me  no  name   but 
Fanny.     I  found  her  and  her  little  boy  on  the  doorstep,  one 
night,  nigh  a  month  ago.     She  was  crying  hard,  and  seemed 
very  sick,  and  httle  Franky  was  a-trying  to  comfort  her— he's 
a  brave,  noble  little  fellow,  sir.     She  told  me  she'd  been  turned 
out  of  doors  for  not  paying^ her  rent,  and  was  afeared  she'd  die 
in  the  street,  though  she  didn't  seem  to  care  much  about  that, 
except  for  the  boy— she   took   on  terrible   about  him.      She 
didn't  know  what  would  become  of  him.     I've  to  scrape  very 
hard  to  get  along,  sir,  for  times  is  hard  ;  but  I  couldn't  see  her 
die  there,  so  I  took  her  in,  and  gave  her  a  bed  in  the  base- 
ment.    'Twas  all  I  could  do  ;  but,  poor  thing  !  she  won't  want 
even  that  long." 

»  It  was  verv  good  of  you.     How  has  she  obtained  foo 
-  The  little  boy  sells  papers  and  ballads  about  the  streets. 


18  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

The  newsman  round  the  corner  trusts  him  for  'em,  and  lie's 
managed  to  make  twenty-five  cents  or  more,  'most  every  day." 

"  Can't  you  give  her  another  room  ?  She  should  not  cle 
where  she  is." 

"  I  know  she  shouldn't,  sir ;  but  I  hain't  got  another— all 
of  'em  is  taken  up ;  and  besides,  sir,"  and  she  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, "  the  noise  up  here  would  disturb  her." 

I  had  not  thought  of  that ;  and  expressing  mvself  gratified 
with  her  kindness,  I  passed  down  again  to  the  basement.  The 
sick  girl  smiled  as  I  asked  : 

"  Do  you  feel  better  ?  " 
,"  Much  better,"  she  replied,  in  a  voice  stronger  than  before. 
u  I  have  not  felt  so  well  for  a  long  time.     I  owe  it  to  you,  sir  ! 
I  am  very  grateful !  " 

II  Don't  speak  of  it.  Wont  you  have  a  little  more  of  the 
broth  ?  " 

"  No  more,  thank  you.  I  won't  trouble  you  any  more,  sir. 
I  shan't  trouble  any  one  long.  But,  oh  sir  !  my  child  !  my 
little  boy  !  What  will  become  of  him  when  I'm  gone  ?  "  and 
she  burst  into  an  hysterical  fit  of  weeping. 

11  Don't  weep  so.  Calm  yourself;  such  excitement  will 
kill  you.  God  will  take  care  of  your  child.  I  will  try  to 
help  him." 

She  looked  at  me  with  those  deep,  intense  eyes.  A  new 
light  seemed  to  come  into  them ;  it  overspread  her  face,  and  lit 
up  her  thin,  wan  features,  with  a  strange  glow. 

"  It  must  be  so,"  she  said  ;  "  else  why  were  you  led  here  ? 
God  must  have  sent  you  to  me  for  that !  " 

".No  doubt  He  did.     Let  it  comfort  you  to  think  so." 

"  It  does,   oh  !   it  does.      And,   0  my  Father  !  "    and  she 


NEW     YORK     AFTER     DARK 


19 


looked  up  as  she  spoke:    "I  thank  Thee!     Thy  poor,  sinful, 
dying  child  thanks  Thee  for  this  !  " 

I  turned  away  to  hide  the  emotion  I  could  not  repress. 
After  a  moment,  not  seeing  the  little  boy,  I  asked  : 

h  Where  is  your  son?" 
•  "  Here,    sir ; "     and    turning    down    the    bed-clothing,    she 
showed  him  sleeping  quietly  by  her  side,  all  unconscious  of  the 
misery   and   the  sin  around   him,    and   of   the   crisis  through 
which  his  young  life  was  passing.     • 

Saying  I  would  return  on  the  following  day,   I    shortly 
afterward  bade  her  good  night,  and  left  the  house. 


CHAPTEK  H. 


THE     DYING     MOTHER. 


It  was  noon  on  the  following  day  when  I  again  visited  the 
house  in  Anthony  street.  As  I  opened,  the  door  of  the  sick 
woman's  room,  I  was  startled  by  her  altered  appearance.  Her 
eye  had  a  strange,  wild  light,  and  her  face  already  wore  the 
pallid  hue  of  death.  She  was  bolstered  up  in  bed,  and  the 
little'boy  was  standing  by  her  side,  weeping.  I  took  her  hand 
in  mine,  and  in  a  voice  which  plainly  spoke  my  fears,  said : 

"  You  are  worse  !  " 

In  broken  gasps,  and  in  a  low,  a  very  low  tone,  her  lips 
scarcely  moving,  she  answered  : 

"  No  !  I  am — better — much — better.  I  knew  you — were 
coming.     She  told  me  so." 

"  Who  told  you  so  ?  "  I  asked,  very  kindly,  for  I  saw  that 
her  mind  was  wandering. 

"  My  mother  ; — she  has  been  with  me — all  the  day — and  I 
have  been  so — so  happy,  so — very  happy  !  I  am  going  now — 
going  with  her.     I've  only  waited — for  you  !  " 

"  Say  no  more  now  ;  you  are  too  weak  to  talk." 

"  But  I  must  talk.  I  am — dying  j  and  I  must  tell — you  all 
before — I  go  !  " 


THE     HYING      MOTHER. 


21 


"I  WOuM  gla-lly  beai  you,  but  you  have  not  strength  for  it 
„„w.     1„  i  toe  get  something  to  rerwe  you." 

She  nodded  assent,  and,  looking  at  her  son,  said: 
"  Take  Frankv." 

The  little  hoy  kissed  her,  and  followed  me  from  the  room. 
When  we  had  reached  the  upper  landing,  I  summoned  the 
woman  of  the  house,  and  said  to  him : 

«  Xow,'  Frankv,  I  want  you  to^stay  here  a  little  while; 
vour  mother  wishes  to  talk  with  me.' 

"But  mother  says  she's  dying,  sir,"  eried  the  little  fellow, 
clinging  closely  to  me.  "I  don't  want  her  to  die.  Oh!  I 
want  to  be  with  her !  " 

«  You  shall  be,  very  soon,  my  boy  ;  but  your  mother  wants 

you  to  Btay  here  now." 

He  released  his  hold  of  my  coat,  and,  sobbing  violently, 
went  with  the  red-faced  woman.  I  hurried  back  from  the 
apothecary's,  and,  seating  myself  on  the  rickety  chair  at  her 
bedside,  gave  the  sick  one  the  restorative.  She  soon  re- 
vived,  and  then,  iu  broken  sentences,  and  in  a  low,  weak  voice, 
pausin.  every  now  and  then  to  rest  or  to  weep,  she  told  me 
her  story.  .Weaving  it  into  some  details  which  I  gathered 
from  others  after  her  death,  I  give  it  to  the  reader  as  she  out- 

lined  it  to  me. 

She  was  the  onlv  daughter  of  a  well-to-do  farmer  in  the 

town  of  B ,  in  New  Hamsphire.    Her  mother  died  when  she 

M  a  child,  and  left  her  to  the  care  of  a  paternal  aunt,  who 
became  her  father's  housekeeper.  This  aunt  had  a  cold,  hard 
nature,  and  no  love  for  children,  but  was  an  exemplary,  pious 
woman.  She  denied  herself  every  luxury,  and  would  rt  up 
late  of  nights  to  braid  straw  and  knit  socks,  that  she  might 


22  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

send  tracts  and  hymn  books  to  the  poor  heathen ;  but  she 
never  gave  a  word  of  sympathy,  or  a  look  of  love,  to  the 
young  being  that  was  growing  up  at  her  side.  The  little  girl 
needed  kindness  and  affection,  as  much  as  plants  need  the  sun ; 
but  the  good  aunt  had  not  these  to  give  her.  When  the  child 
was  six  years  old,  she  was  sent  to  the  district  school.  There 
she  met  a  little  boy,  not  quite  five  years  her  senior,  and  they 
soon  became  warm  friends.  He  seemed  a  brave,  manly  lad, 
and  she  thought  no  one  ever  so  good  or  so  handsome  as  he. 
Her  young  heart  found  in  him  what  it  craved  for — some  one  to 
lean  on  and  to  love — and  she  loved  him  with  all  the  strength 
of  her  child-nature.  He  was  very  kind  to  her.  Though  his 
home  was  a  mile  away,  he  came  every  morning  to  take  her  to 
school ;  and  in  the  long  summer  vacations  he  almost  lived  at 
her  father's  house.  And  thus  four  years  flew  away — flew  as 
fast  as  years  that  are  winged  with  youth  and  love  always  fly  ; 
and  though  her  father  was  harsh,  and  her  aunt  cold  and  stern, 
she  did  not  know  a  grief,  or  shed  a  tear,  in  all  that  time. 

One  day,  late  in  summer,  toward  the  close  of  those  four 
years,  John — that  was  his  name — came  to  her,  his  face  beam- 
ing all  over  with  joy,  and  said : 

"  0  Fanny !  I  am  going — going  to  Boston.  Father  has 
got  me  into  a  great  store  there — a  great  store,  and  I'm  to  stay 
till  I'm  twenty-one.  They  won't  pay  me  hardly  anything — 
only  fifty  dollars  the  first  year,  and  twenty-five  more  every 
other  year ;  but  father  says  it's  a  great  store,  and  it'll  be  the 
making  of  me."  And  he  danced  and  sang  in  his  joy  ;  but  she 
wept  in  bitter  grief. 

"Well,  five  more  years  rolled  away — they  were  not  winged 
as  before — and  John  came  home  to  spend  his  two  weeks  of 


THE      DYING      MOTHER.  23 

summer  vacation.  He  had  come  every  year  ;  but  then  he  said 
to  her  what  he  had  never  Baid  before — that  which  a  woman 
never  forgets.  He  told  her  that  the  old  Quaker  gentleman, 
the  head  of  the  great  house  he  was  with,  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
him,  and  was  going  to  send  him  to  Europe,  in  the  place  of  the 
junior  partner,  who  was  sick,  and  might  never  get  well.  That 
he  should  stay  away  a  year  ;  but  when  he  came  back,  he  was 
sure  the  old  fellow  would  make  him  a  partner,  and  then — and 
he  strained  her  to  ln3  heart  as  he  said  it—"  then  I  will  make 
you  my  little  wife,  Fanny,  and  take  you  to  Boston,  and  you 
shall  be  a  fine  lady — as  fine  a  lady  as  Kate  Russell,  the  old 
man's  daughter."  And  again  he  danced  and  sang;  and  again 
she  wept,  but  this  time  it  was  for  joy. 

He  stayed  away  a  little  more  than  a  year,  and  when  he  re- 
turned he  did  not  come  at  once  to  her,  but  wrote  that  he  would 
very  soon.  In  a  few  days  he  sent  her  a  newspaper,  in  which 
was  a  marked  notice,  which  read  somewhat  as  follows  : 

M  The  co-partnership  heretofore  existing  under  the  name  and 
style  of  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.,  has  been  dissolved  by  the  death 
of  David  Geat,  Jr. 

"  The  outstanding  affairs  will  be  settled,  and  the  business  con- 
tinued, by  the  surviving  partners,  who  have  this  day  admitted 
Mr.  John  Hallet  to  an  interest  in  their  firm." 

The  truth  had  been  gradually  dawning  upon  me,  yet  when 
she  mentioned  his  name,  I  involuntarily  exclaimed  : 

"John  Hallet!  and  were  you  engaged   to  him?" 

The  sick  woman  had  paused  from  exhaustion,  but  mak- 
ing a  feeble  effort  to  raise  herself,  she  said,  in  a  voice  stronger 
than  before  : 

"  Do  you  know  him,  sir  ?  " 


24  MY     SOUTHERN     FBIENDS. 

11  Know  him  ?  Yes,  madam  ;  "  and  I  paused  and  spoke  in 
a  lower  tone,  for  I  saw  that  my  manner  was  unduly  exciting 
her  ;    "  I  know  him  well." 

I  did  know  him  well ;  and  it  was  on  the  evening  of  the 
day  that  notice  was  written,  that  I,  a  boy  of  sixteen,  with 
my  hat  in  my  hand,  entered  the  inner  office  of  the  coimting 
room  of  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.  Mr.  Russell,  a  genial,  gentle, 
good  old  man,  was  at  his  desk,  writing ;  and  Mr.  Rollins  sat  at 
his,  poring  over  some  long  accounts. 

"  Mr.  Russell  and  Mr.  Rollins,"  I  said  very  respectfully,  "  I 
have  come  to  bid  you  good-by.     I  am  going  to  leave  you." 

"  Thee  going  to  leave ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Russell,  laying 
down  his  spectacles  ;   "  what  does  thee  mean,  Edmund  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  I  don't  want  to  stay  any  longer,  sir,"  I  replied, 
my  voice  trembling. 

"  But  you  must  stay,  Edmund,"  said  Mr.  Rollins,  in  his 
harsh,  imperative  way.  "  Your  uncle  indentured  you  to  us  till 
you  are  twenty-one,  and  you  can't  go." 

"I  shall  go,  sir,"  I  replied,  with  less  respect  than  he  de- 
served. "My  uncle  indentured  me  to  the  old  firm;  I  am  not 
bound  to  stay  with  the  new." 

Mr.  Russell  looked  grieved,  but  in  the  same  mild  tone  as 
before,  he  said : 

"  I  am  sorry,  Edmund,  very  sorry,  to  hear  thee  say  that. 
Thee  can  go,  if  thee  likes ;  but  it  grieves  me  to  have  thee 
quibble  so.  Thee  will  not  prosper,  my  son,  if  thee  follows  this 
course  in  life." 

The  moisture  came  into  the  old  man's  eyes  as  he  spoke. 
It  filled  mine,  and  rolled  in  large  drops  down  my  cheeks,  as  I 
replied : 


T  HE     DTIM  G     M  OTHEBT.  25 

'•Forgive  me,  sir,  for  speaking  so.  I  do  not  wish  to  do 
wrong,  but  I  cant  stay  with  John  Hallet." 

"  Why  can't  thee  stay  with  John  ?  " 

44  He  don't  like  me,  sir.     We  are  not  friends." 

"  Why  are  you  not  friends?" 

"  Because  I  know  him,  sir." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  him  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Rollins,  in  the 
same  harsh,  abrupt  tone  as  before.  I  had  never  liked  Mr.  Rol- 
ling and  his  words  just  then  stung  me  to  the  quick.  I  forgot 
myself  for  I  replied  : 

"I  know  him  to  be  a  lying,  hypocritical  scoundrel, 
sir." 

Some  two  years  before,  Hallet  had  joined  the  church  in 
which  Mr.  Rollins  was  a  deacon,  and  was  universally  regarded 
as  a  pious,  devout  young  man.  The  opinion  I  expressed  was, 
therefore,  rank  heterodoxy.  To  my  surprise,  Mr.  Rollins 
turned  to  Mr.  Russell,  and  said : 

11 1  believe  the  boy  is  right,  Ephraim ;  John  professes  too 
much  to  be  sincere ;  Fve  told  you  so  before." 

11  I  can't  think  so,  Thomas  ;  but  it's  too  late  to  alter  things 
now.     We  shall  see.     Time  will  prove  him." 

I  soon  left,  but  not  till  they  had  shaken  me  warmly  by  the 
hand,  wished  me  well,  and  promised  me  their  aid  whenever  I 
required  it. 

When  I  had  given  her  some  of  the  cordial,  and  she  had 
rested  awhile,  the  sick  girl  resumed  her  story. 

In  about  a  month,  Hallet  came.     He  pictured  to  her  his 
new  position  ;  the  wealth  and  standing  it  would  give  him,  and 
he  said  he  was  preparing  a  little  home  for  her,  and  would  soon 
return  and  take  her  with  him  forever, 
2 


20  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

[He  had  then  for  more  than  a  year  been  affianced  to  an- 
other— a  rich  man's  only  child — a  woman  older  than  he,  who 
would  have  been  most  repulsive  to  him,  had  not  money  been 
his  god.] 

It  is  needless  to  detail  by  what  devilish  fraud  and  artifice 
this  wretch  at  last  achieved  the  poor  girl's  ruin. 

About  a  month  afterward,  taking  up  a  Boston  paper,  she 

saw  the  marriage  of  Mr.  John  Hallet,  merchant,  to  Miss 

.     "  Some  other  person  has  his  name,"  she  thought.     "  It 

cannot  be  he  ;  yet  it  is  strange."  It  icas  strange,  but  it  was 
true,  for  there,  in  another  column,  she  read  that  "  Mr.  John 
Hallet,  of  the  house  of  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.,  and  his  accom- 
plished lady,  were  passengers  by  the  steamer  Cambria,  which 
sailed  from  this  port  yesterday  for  Liverpool." 

The  blow  crushed  her.  But  why  need  I  tell  of  her  grief, 
her  agony,  her  despair?  For  months  she  did  not  leave  her 
room  ;  and  when  at  last  she  crawled  out  into  the  open  air,  the 
nearest  neighbors  scarcely  recognized  her. 

It  was  long,  however,  before  she  knew  all  the  wrong  that 
Hallet  had  done  her.  Her  aunt  noticed  her  altered  appear- 
ance, and  questioned  her.  She  told  her  all.  At  first,  the  cold, 
hard  woman  spoke  harshly  to  her ;  but,  though  cold  and  harsh, 
she  had  a  woman's  heart,  and  she  forgave  her.  She  undertook 
to  tell  the  story  to  her  brother.  He  had  his  sister's  nature  ; 
was  a  strict,  pious,  devout  man ;  prayed  every  morning  and 
evening  in  his  family,  and,  rain  or  shine,  went  every  Sunday  to 
hear  two  dull,  cast-iron  sermons  at  the  old  meeting-house  ;  but 
he  had  not  her  woman's  heart.  He  stormed  and  raved  for  a 
time,  and  then  he  cursed  his  only  child,  and  drove  her  from  his 
house.     The  aunt  had  forty  dollars — the  proceeds  of  sock  knit- 


THE      DYING      1I0T1IEK.  27 

ting  and  straw  braiding,  not  yet  invested  in  hymn  hooks — and 
with  one  sigh  for  the  poor  heathen,  she  gave  it  to  her.  With 
that,  and  a  small  satchel  of  clothes,  and  with  two  little  hearts 
beating  under  her  bosom,  the  poor  girl  went  out  into  the 
world.  "Where  could  she  go  ?  She  knew  not,  but  she  wan- 
dered on  till  she  reached  the  village.  The  stage  was  standing 
before  the  tavern  door,  and  the  driver  was  mounting  the  box 
to  start.  She  thought  for  a  moment.  She  could  not  stay- 
there.  It  would  anger  her  father  if  she  did ;  no  one  would 
take  her  in  ;  and  besides,  she  could  not  meet,  in  her  misery 
and  her  shame,  those  who  had  known  her  from  childhood. 
She  spoke  to  the  driver.  He  dismounted,  opened  the  door, 
and  she  took  a  seat  in  the  coach,  to  go — she  did  not  know 
whither,  she  did  not  care  where. 

They  rode  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  stopped  at  Con- 
cord. As  she  stepped  from  the  stage,  the  red-faced  landlord 
asked  her  if  she  was  going  further.  She  said,  "  I  do  not 
know,  sir;"  but  then  a  thought  struck  her.  It  was  five 
months  since  Hallet  had  started  for  Europe,  and  it  might  be 
that  he  had  returned.  She  would  go  to  him.  Though  he 
could  not  undo  the  wrong  he  had  done,  he  still  would  aid  and 
pity  her.  She  asked  the  route  to  Boston,  and,  after  a  light 
meal,  was  on  the  way  thither. 

She  arrived  after  dark,  and  was  driven  to  the  Marlboro 
Hotel — that  Eastern  Eden  for  lone  women  and  tobacco-eschew- 
ing men — and  there  she  passed  the  night.  Though  weak  from 
recent  illness,  and  worn  and  wearied  with  the  long  journey,  she 
could  not  rest  or  sleep.  The  great  sorrow  that  had  fallen  on 
her  had  driven  rest  from  her  heart  and  quiet  sleep  from  her 
eyelids  forever.     In  the  morning  she  inquired  the  way  to  Rus- 


28  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

sell,  Rollins  &  Co.'s,  and  after  a  long  search  found  the  grim  old 
warehouse.  She  started  to  enter  the  counting  room,  but  her 
heart  failed  her.  She  turned  away,  and  wandered  of!  through 
the  narrow,  crooked  streets.  She  met  a  busy  crowd  hurrying 
to  and  fro,  but  no  one  noticed  or  cared  for  her.  She  saw  neat, 
cheerful  homes  smiling  around  her,  and  she  thought  how  every 
one  had  shelter  and  friends  but  her.  She  looked  up  at  the 
cold,  gray  sky,  and  oh  !  how  she  longed  that  it  might  fall 
down  and  bury  her  forever.  And  still  she  wandered,  till  her 
limbs  grew  weary  and  her  heart  grew  faint.  At  last  she  sank 
down  exhausted,  and  wept — wept  as  only  the  lost  and  the 
utterly  forsaken  can  weep.  Some  little  boys  were  playing 
near,  and  after  a  time  they  left  their  sports,  and  came  to  her. 
They  spoke  kindly  to  her,  and  it  gave  her  strength.  She 
rose,  and  walked  on  again.  A  hack  passed  her,  and  she  got 
into  it.  After  a  long  hour  she  stood  once  more  before  the 
old  warehouse.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  she  had 
eaten  nothing  all  day,  and  was  very  faint  and  tired ;  but,  sum- 
moning all  her  strength,  she  at  last  opened  the  door  of  the  old 
counting  room. 

A  tall,  spare,  pleasant-faced  man  was  standing  at  the  desk, 
and  she  asked  him  if  Mr.  John  Hallet  was  there. 

"  No,  madam  ;  he's  in  Europe." 

"  "When  will  he  come  back,  sir  ?  " 

"Not  for  a  year;"  and  the  man  raised  his  glasses  and 
looked  at  her. 

Her  last  -hope  jailed,  and  with  a  heavy,  crushing  pain  in 
her  heart,  and  a  dull,  dizzy  feeling  in  her  head,  she  turned  to 
go.  As  she  staggered  away,  a  hand  was  placed  gently  on  her 
arm,  and  a  mild  voice  said  : 


THE      DYING     MOTHER.  29 

"  Thee  is  ill ;  sit  down." 

She  took  the  proffered  seat,  and  an  old  gentleman  came  out 
of  the  inner  office. 

"  What !  what's  this,  David  ?  "  he  asked.  "  What  ails  the 
young  woman  ?  " 

[She  was  then  not  quite  seventeen.] 

u  She's  ill,  sir,"  said  David. 

"  Only  a  little  tired,  sir.     I  shall  be  better  soon." 

"  But  thee  is  ill,  my  child ;  thee  looks  so.  Come  here, 
Kate  !  "  and  the  old  gentleman  raised  his  voice  as  if  speaking 
to  some  one  in  the  inner'room.  The  sick  girl  lifted  her  eyes, 
and  saw  a  blue-eyed,  golden-haired  young  woman,  not  quite  so 
old  as  she  was. 

"  She  seems  very  sick,  father.  Please,  David,  get  some 
water  ; "  and  the  young  lady  undid  the  poor  girl's  bonnet,  and 
bathed  her  temples  with  the  cool,  grateful  fluid.  After  a  while 
the  old  gentleman  asked  : 

"  What  brought  thee  here,  young  woman  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  see  John — Mr.  Hallet,  I  mean,  sir." 

u  Thee  knows  John,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sir." 

"  Where  does  thee  live  ?  " 

She  was  about  to  say  that  she  had  no  home,  but,  checking 
herself — for  it  would  seem  strange  that  a  young  girl  who  knew 
John  Hallet  should  be  homeless — she  answered : 

"  In  New  Hampshire.  I  live  near  old  Mr.  Hallet's,  sir.  I 
came  to  see  John,  because  I've  known  him  ever  since  I  was  a 
child." 

She  drank  some  water,  and  after  a  little  time  rose  to  leave. 
As  she  turned  toward  the  door,  the  thought  of  going,  with  her 


30  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIEXDS. 

great  sorrow,  out  into  the  wide,  desolate  world,  crossed  her 
mind,  the  heavy,  crushing  pain  came  again  into  her  heart,  the 
dull,  dizzy  feeling  into  her  head,  the  room  reeled,  and  she  fell 
to  the  floor. 

It  was  after  dark  when  she  came  to  herself.  She  was 
lying  on  a  bed  in  a  large,  splendidly  furnished  apartment,  and 
the  same  old  gentleman  and  the  same  young  girl  were  with 
her.  Another  old  gentleman  was  there,  and  as  she  opened  her 
eyes,  he  said  : 

"  She  will  be  better  soon ;  her  nervous  system  has  had  a 
severe  shock ;  the  difficulty  is  there.  If  you  could  get  her  to 
confide  in  you,  'twould  relieve  her ;  it  is  hidden  grief  that  kills 
people.  Come,  my  child,  take  this,"  and  he  held  a  fluid  to  her 
lips.  She  drank  it,  and  in  a  few  moments  sank  into  a  deep 
slumber. 

It  was  late  on  the  following  morning  when  she  awoke,  and 
found  the  young  girl  still  at  her  bedside. 

"  You  are  better  now.  A  few  days  of  quiet  rest  will  make 
you  well,"  said  the  young  lady. 

The  kind,  loving  words,  almost  the  first  she  ever  heard 
from  woman,  went  to  her  heart,  and  she  wept  bitterly  as  she 
replied  : 

"  Oh  !  no,  there  is  no  rest — no  more  rest  for  me  !  " 

"  Why  so  ?  What  is  it  that  grieves  you  ?  Tell  me.  It 
will  ease  your  pain  to  let  me  share  it  with  you." 

She  told  her,  but  she  withheld  his  name.  Once  it  rose  to 
her  lips,  but  she  thought  how  those  good  people  would  scorn 
him,  how  Mr.  Russell  would  cast  him  off,  how  his  prospects 
would  be  blasted,  and  she  kept  it  back. 

"Amd  that  is  the  reason  you  went  to  John?     You  knew 


THE     DYING     MOT  UK  B.  31 

what  a  good,  Christian  man  he  is,  and  you  thought  he  would 
aid  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  I  "  said  the  sick  girl 

It  was  thus  she  recompensed  him  for  robbing  her  of  home, 
of  honor,  and  of  peace  1 

Kate  told  her  father  the  story,  and  the  good  old  man  gave 
Fanny  a  room  in  one  of  his  tenement  houses,  and  there,  a  few 
months  later,  she  gave  birth  to  a  little  boy  and  girl.  She  was 
very  sick,  but  Kate  provided  for  her  wants,  procured  a  nurse, 
and  a  physician,  and  gave  her  what  she  needed  more  than  all 
else — kindness  and  sympathy. 

Previous  to  her  sickness  she  had  supported  herself  by  her 
needle,  and  when  she  was  sufficiently  recovered,  again  had 
recourse  to  it  Her  earnings  were  scanty,  for  she  was  not 
strong,  but  they  were  eked  out  by  an  occasional  remittance 
from  her  aunt.  This  good  lady  still  adhered  to  her  sock-knit- 
ting, straw-braiding  habits,  but,  to  her  praise  be  it  spoken,  had 
turned  her  back  resolutely  on  her  benighted  brethren  and  sis- 
ters of  the  Feejee  Islands. 

Thus  nearly  a  year  wore  away,  when  her  little  girl  sick- 
ened and  died.  She  felt  a  mother's  pang  at  first,  but  she  shed 
no  tears,  for  she  knew  it  was  "  well  with  the  child ; "  that  it 
had  gone  where  it  would  never  know  a  fate  like  hers. 

The  watching  with  it,  added  to  her  other  labors,  under- 
mined her  health.  The  remittance  from  her  aunt  did  not  come 
as  usual,  and  though  she  paid  no  rent,  she  soon  found  herself 
unable  to  earn  a  support.  The  Russells  had  been  so  good,  so 
kind,  had  done  so  much  for  her,  that  she  could  not  ask  them 
for  more.  "What,  then,  should  she  do  ?  One  day,  while  she 
was  in  this  strait,  Kate  came  to  see  her,  and  casually  mentioned 


32  MY     SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

that  John  Hallet  had  returned.  She  struggled  with  her  pride 
for  a  time,  but  at  last  made  up  her  mind  to  apply  to  him.  She 
wrote  to  him ;  told  him  of  her  struggles,  of  her  illness,  of  her 
many  sufferings,  of  her  little  boy — his  image,  his  child — then 
playing  at  her  feet,  and  she  besought  him,  by  the  love  he  bore 
her  in  their  childhood,  not  to  let  his  once  affianced  wife,  and 
his  poor,  innocent  child,  starve  ! 

Long  weeks  went  by,  but  no  answer  came  ;  and  again  she 
wrote  him. 

One  day,  not  long  after  sending  this  last  letter,  as  she  was 
crossing  the  Common  to  her  attic  in  Charles  street,  she  met 
him.  He  was  alone,  and  saw  her,  but  attempted  to  pass  her 
without  recognition.  She  stood  squarely  in  his  way,  and  told 
him  she  would  be  heard.  He  admitted  having  received  her 
letters,  but  said  he  could  do  nothing  for  her ;  that  the  brat  was 
not  his ;  that  she  must  not  attempt  to  fasten  on  him  the  fruit . 
of  her  debaucheries  ;  that  no  one  would  believe  her  if  she  did  ; 
and  he  added,  as  he  turned  away,  that  he  was  a  married  man,  and 
a  Christian,  and  could  not  be  seen  talking  with  a  lewd  woman. 

She  was  stunned.  She  sank  down  on  one  of  the  benches 
near,  and  tried  to  weep  ;  but  the  tears  would  not  come.  For 
the  first  time  since  he  had  so  deeply  wronged  her,  she  felt  a 
bitter  feeling  rising  in  her  heart.  She  rose,  and  turned  her 
steps  up  Beacon  Hill  toward  Mr.  Eussell's,  fully  determined  to 
tell  Kate  all.  She  was  admitted,  and  shown  to  Miss  Russell's 
room.  She  told  Kate  how  she  had  met  her  seducer,  and  how 
he  had  cast  her  off. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  asked  Kate.  "  Tell  me,  and  father  will 
publish  him  from  one  end  of  the  universe  to  the  other !  He 
does  not  deserve  to  live." 


T  II  E      D  Y  1  N  G      M  O  T  U  E  K.  33 

His  name  trembled  on  her  tongue.  A  moment  more,  and 
John  I  Iallet  had  been  a  ruined  man,  branded  with  a  mark  that 
would  have* followed  him  through  the  world.  But  she  paused; 
the  vision  of  his  wife,  of  the  innocent  child  just  born  to 
him,  rose  before  her,  and  the  words  melted  away  from  her  lips 

unspoken. 

Kate  spoke  kindly  and  encouragingly  to  her,  but  she  heed- 
ed her  not.  One  only  thought  had  possession  of  her :  how  could 
she  throw  off  the  mighty  load  that  was  pressing  on  her  soul? 

After  a  time,  she  rose  and  left  the  house.  As  she  walked 
down  Beacon  street,  the  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west,  and  its 
red  glow  mounted  midway  up  the  heavens.  As  she  looked  at 
it,  the  sky  seemed  one  great  molten  sea,  its  hot,  lurid  waves 
surging  all  around  her.  She  thought  it  came  nearer ;  that  it 
set  on  fire  the  green  Common  and  the  great  houses,  and  shot 
fierce,  hot  flames  through  her  brain  and  into  her  very  soul. 
For  a  moment  she  was  paralyzed,  and  sank  to  the  ground ; 
then,  springing  to  her  feet,  she  flew  to  her  child.  She  bounded 
down  the  long  hill,  and  up  the  steep  stairways,  and  burst  into 
the  room  of  the  good  woman  who  was  tending  him,  shouting : 

"Fire!  fire!  The  world  is  on  fire!  Run!  run!  the 
world  is  on  fire  !  " 

She  caught  him  up,  and  darted  away.  She  flew  down 
Charles  street,  across  the  Common,  and  through  the  crowded 
thoroughfares,  till  she  reached  India  Wharf,  all  the  while  mut- 
tering, "  Water,  water  !  "—water,  to  quench  the  fire  in  her 
blood,  in  her  brain,  in  her  very  soul. 

She  paused  on  the  pier,  and  gazed  for  a  moment  at  the 
dark,  slimy  flood  ;  then  she  plunged  down,  down,  where  all  is 
forgetfulness ! 

2* 


34  MY      SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

She  had  a  dim  recollection  of  a  storm  at  sea ;  of  a  vessel 
thrown  violently  on  its  beam  ends  ;  of  a  great  tumult,  and  of 
voices  louder  than  she  ever  heard  before — voices  that  rose 
above  the  howling  of  the  tempest  and  the  surging  of  the  great 
waves — calling  out :  "  All  hands  to  clear  away  the  foremast !  " 
But  she  knew  nothing  certain.     All  was  chaos. 

The  next  thing  she  remembered,  ^as  waking  one  morning 
in  a  room  about  twelve  feet  square,  with  a  small  grated  open- 
ing in  the  door.  The  sun  had  just  risen,  and  she  was  lying  on 
a  low,  narrow  bed,  whose  clothing  was  spotlessly  white  and 
clean.  Her  little  boy  was  sleeping  by  her  side.  His  cheeks 
had  a  rosier,  healthier  hue  than  they  ever  wore  before  ;  and  as 
she  turned  down  the  coverlet,  she  saw  he  had  grown  wonderfully. 
She  could  hardly  credit  her  senses.     Could  that  be  her  child  ? 

She  spoke  to  him.  He  opened  his  eyes,  and  smiled,  and 
put  his  little  mouth  up  to  hers,  saying,  "  Kiss,  mamma ;  kiss 
Fanky.''  She  took  him  in  her  arms,  and  covered  him  with 
kisses.  Then  she  rose  to  dress  herself.  A  strange  but  neat 
and  tidy  gown  was  on  the  chair,  and  she  put  it  on ;  it  fitted 
exactly.  Franky  rolled  over  to  the  front  of  the  bed,  and  put- 
ting first  one  little  foot  out,  and  then  the  other,  let  himself 
down  to  the  floor.  "  Can  it  be  ?  "  she  thought ;  "  can  he  both 
walk  and  talk  ?  "  Soon  she  heard  the  bolt  turning  in  the  door. 
It  opened,  and  a  pleasant,  elderly  woman,  with  a  large  bundle 
of  keys  at  her  girdle,  entered  the  room. 

"And  how  do  you  do  this  morning,  my  daughter?"  she 
asked. 

"  Very  well,  ma'am.     Where  ami?" 

"  You  ask  where  ?  Then  you  are  well.  You  haven't  been, 
for  a  long,  long  ',ime,  my  child." 


THE      DYING      MOTHEE  35 

v-  And  wh  i '  am  I,  ma'am  ?  " 

••  Why,  you  arc  here — at  Bloomingdale." 

"How  long  have  1  been  here?" 

*•  Lei  me  see  j  il  must,  be  near  fifteen  months,  now." 

•■  And  who  brought  me  here  ?  " 

".V  captain  of  a  vessel.  He  was  just  hauling  out  of  the 
dock  at  Boston,  when  you  jumped  into  the  water  with  Franky. 
One  of  his  men  sprang  overboard,  and  saved  you.  The  vessel 
couldn't  put  back,  so  he  brought  you  hi 

"  Merciful  heaven  !  did  I  do  that?  " 

11  Yes.  You  must  have  been  sorely  troubled,  my  child. 
But  never  mind ;  it  is  all  over  now.  But  hasn't  Franky 
grown  ?  Isn't  he  a  handsome  boy  ?  Come  here  to  grandma, 
my  baby."  The  good  woman  sat  down  on  a  chair,  and  the 
little  fellow  ran  to  her,  put  his  small  arms  about  her  neck,  and 
kissed  her  over  and  over  again.  Children  are  intuitive  judges 
of  character ;  no  really  bad  man  or  woman  ever  had  the  love 
of  a  child. 

"  Yes,  he  has  grown.     You  call  him  Franky,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  we  didn't  know  his  name.  What  had  you  named 
him?" 

"  John  Hallet." 

As  she  spoke  those  words  a  sharp  pang  shot  through  her 
heart.     It  was  well  that  her  child  had  another  name. 

She  was  soon  sufficiently  recovered  to  leave  the  asylum. 
By  the  kind  offices  of  the  matron,  she  obtained  employment  in 
a  cap  factory,  and  a  plain  but  comfortable  boarding  place  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  city.  She  worked  at  the  shop,  and  left 
Franky  during  the  day  with  her  landlady,  a  kind-hearted  but 
woman.     Her   earnings  were  but  three   dollars  a  week, 


3G  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

and  their  board  was  two  and  a  quarter ;  but  on  the  balance  she 
contrived  to  provide  herself  and  her  child  with  clothes.  The 
only  luxury  she  indulged  in  was  an  occasional  walk  on  Sunday 
to  Bloomingdale,  to  see  her  friend,  the  good  matron. 

Thus  things  went  on  for  two  years  ;  and  if  not  happy,  she 
was  at  least  comfortable.  Her  father  never  relented  ;  but  her 
aunt  wrote  her  often,  and  there  was  comfort  in  the  thought 
that  at  least  one  of  her  early  friends  had  not  cast  her  off. 
That  good  lady,  too,  sent  her  now  and  then  small  remittances, 
but  they  came  few  and  far  between ;  for  as  the  pious  woman 
grew  older,  her  heart  gradually  returned  to  its  first  love — the 
poor  heathen. 

Before  leaving  the  asylum,  she  wrote  to  Kate  Russell, 
She  told  her  of  all  that  had  happened  as  far  as  she  knew,  and 
thanked  her  for  all  her  goodness  and  kindness  to  her.  She 
waited  some  weeks,  but  no  answer  came  ;  and  then  she  wrote 
again.  Still  no  answer  came,  though  that  time  she  waited  two 
or  three  months.  Fearing  that  something  had  befallen  Kate, 
she  then  mustered  courage  to  write  Mr.  Russell.  Still  she  got 
no  reply,  and  she  reluctantly  concluded — though  she  had  not 
asked  them  for  aid — that  they  had  ceased  to  feel  interested  in 
her. 

"They  had  not,  madam,"  I  exclaimed.  "Kate  has  often 
spoken  most  kindly  of  you.  She  wanted  to  come  here  to* 
day ;  but  I  did  not  know  this,  and  I  was  unwilling  to  bring 
her." 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  strange  surprise.  Her  eyes 
lighted,  and  her  face  beamed,  as  she  said :  "  And  you  know 
her,  too ! " 

"  Know  her  ?     She  will  soon  be  my  wife." 


THE      DYING      MOTUEK.  37 

°  And  )'ou  will  tell  her  how  much  I  love  her — how  grate- 
ful I  am  to  her  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  I  replied.  I  did  not  say,  as  I  might  have  said, 
that  Hallet  had  access  to  Mr.  Russell's  mails,  at  the  time  .-he 
wrote,  and,  knowing  her  handwriting,  he  had  undoubtedly 
intercepted  her  letters. 

After  a  long  pause,  she  resumed  her  story. 

At  the  end  of  those  two  years,  a  financial  panic  swept  over 
the  country,  prostrating  the  great  houses,  and  sending  want 
and  suffering  into  the  attics — not  homes,  for  they  have  none — 
of  the  poor  sewing  women.  The  firm  that  employed  her 
failed,  and  Fanny  was  thrown  out  of  work.  She  went  to  her 
friend  the  matron,  and  she  interested  some  "benevolent"  ladies 
in  her  behalf,  who  gave  her  shirts  to  make  at  twenty-five  cents 
apiece  !  She  could  hardly  do  enough  to  pay  her  board  ;  but 
she  could  work  at  home  with  Franky,  and  that  was  a  comfort, 
for  he  was  growing  to  be  a  bright,  affectionate  boy. 

About  this  time,  her  aunt  and  the  good  matron  died.  She 
mourned  for  them  sincerely,  for  they  were  all  the  friends  she 
had. 

The  severe  times  affected  her  landlady.  Being  unable  to 
pay  her  rent,  she  was  sold  out  by  the  sheriff,  and  Fanny  had  to 
seek  other  lodgings.  She  then  took  a  little  room,  and  lived  by 
herself. 

The  death  of  the  matron  was  a  great  calamity,  for  her 
"benevolent"  friends  lost  interest  in  her,  and  soon  took  from 
her  the  poor  privilege  of  making  shirts  at  twenty-five  cents 
apiece  !  When  this  befell  her,  she  had  but  four  dollars  and 
twenty  cents  in  the  world.  This  she  made  furnish  food  to  her- 
self and  her  child  for  four  long  weeks,  while  she  vainly  sought 


38  MY      SOUTHERN      FfilEUDS. 

for  work.  She  offered  to  do  anything — to  sew,  scrub,  cook, 
wash — anything  ;  but  no  !  there  was  nothing  for  her — 
nothing  !  She  must  drain  the  cup  to  the  very,  dregs,  that  the 
vengeance  of  God — and  He  would  not  be  just  if  He  did  not 
take  terrible  vengeance  on  crime  like  his — might  sink  John 
Hallet  to  the  lowest  hell ! 

For  four  days  she  had  not  tasted  food.  Her  child  was  sick. 
She  had  begged  a  few  crumbs  for  him,  but  even  he  had  eaten 
nothing  all  day.  Then  the  tempter  came,  and — why  need  I 
say  it  ? — she  sinned. 

Some  months  after  that,  she  noticed  in  the  evening  paper, 
among  the  arrivals  at  the  Astor  House,  the  name  of  John 
Hallet.  That  night  she  went  to  him.  She  was  shown  to  his 
room,  and,  rapping  at  the  door,  was  asked  to  "  walk  in."  She 
stepped  inside,  and  stood  before  him.  He  sprang  from  his 
seat,  and  told  her  to  leave  him.  She  begged  him  to  hear  her 
— for  only  one  moment  to  hear  her.  He  stamped  on  the  floor 
in  rage,  and  told  her  to  go  1  She  did  not  go,  for  she  showed 
him  the  pit  of  infamy  into  which  she  had  fallen,  and  prayed 
him,  as  he  hoped  for  heaven,  as  he  loved  his  own  child,  to  save 
her !  Then,  with  terrible  curses,  he  opened  the  door,  laid  his 
hands  upon  her,  and — thrust  her  from  the  room  I 

"Why  should  I  tell  how,  step  by  step,  she  went  down; 
how  want  came  upon  her ;  how  disease  fastened  its  fangs 
on  her  vitals ;  how  Death  walked  with  her  up  and  down 
Broadway  in  the  gaslight ;  how,  in  her  very  hours  of  shame, 
there  came  to  her  visions  of  the  innocent  past — thoughts  of 
what  she  might  have  been,  and  of  what  she  was  ? 

As  she  finished  the  tale,  I  rose  from  my  seat,  and  while 
tears  filled  my  eyes,  said  :    "  Rest  easy,  my  poor  girl !      As 


THE      DYING      MOTHER.  39 

jure  as  God  lives,  you  shall  be  avenged.  John  Ilallet  shall 
feel  the  misery  he  has  brought  upon  you.  I  will  pull  him 
down — down  bo  low,  that  the  very  beggars  shall  hoot  at  him 
in  the  Btreeta  !  " 

"  Oh  !  no  ;  do  not  harm  him  !  Leave  him  to  God.  He 
may  yet  repent !  " 

The  long  exertion  had  exhausted  her,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
sinking  rapidly.  I  felt  of  her  pulse — it  scarcely  beat ;  I  passed 
my  hand  up  her  arm — it  was  icy  cold  to  the  elbow  !  She  was 
indeed  dying.  Giving  her  some  of  the  cordial,  I  called  her 
little  boy. 

"When  we  entered,  she  took  each  of  us  by  the  hand,  and 
said  to  Franky  :  "  My  child — your  mother  is  going  away — 
from  you.  Be  a  good  boy — love  this  gentleman — he  will  take 
care  of  you  !  "  Then  to  me  she  said  :  u  Be  kind  to  him,  sir. 
He  is — a  good  child  !  " 

"  Have  comfort,  madam  ;  he  shall  be  my  son.  Kate  will 
be  a  mother  to  him  !  " 

"  Bless  you  !  bless  her  1  A  mother's  blessing  will  be  on 
you !  The  blessing  of  God — will  be  on  you ; — and  if  the  dead 
can  come  back — to  comfort  those  they  love — I  will  come  back 
— and  comfort  you  1 " 

I  do  not  know — I  cannot  know,  till  the  veil  which  hides 
her  world  from  ours  is  lifted  from  my  eyes ;  but  there  have  been 
times — many  times — when  Kate  and  I  have  thought  she  was 
keeping  her  word  ! 

For  a  half  hour  she  lay  without  speaking,  still  holding  our 
hands  in  hers.  Then,  in  a  low  tone — so  low  that  I  had  to  bend 
down  to  hear — she  said  : 

"  Oh  !  is  it  not  beautiful !     Don't  you  hear  ?     And  look  ! 


40  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

oh,  look  !  And  my  mother,  too !  Oh  !  it  is  too  bright  for 
such  as  I !  " 

The  heavenly  gates  had  opened  to  her  !  She  had  caught  a 
vision  of  the  better  land ! 

In  a  moment  she  said : 

"  Farewell,  my  friend — my  child — I  will  "     Then  a 

low  sound  rattled  in  her  throat,  and  she  passed  away,  just  as 
the  last  rays  of  the  winter  sun  streamed  through  the  low  win- 
dow. One  of  its  bright  beams  rested  on  her  face,  and  lingered 
there  till  we  laid  her  away  forever. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A     STAGE-COACH     ADVENTURE. 

It  was  five  years  after  the  events  recorded  in  the  previous 
chapter,  when,  one  day  late  in  October,  I  started  on  my  annual 
tour  among  the  Southern  correspondents  of  the  mercantile 
house  of  which  I  was  then  a  member.  Arriving  at  Richmond 
shortly  after  noon,  I  took  a  hasty  meal  at  the  wretched  restau- 
rant near  the  railway  station,  and  seating  myself  in  one  of  the 
rickety  cars,  proceeded  on  my  journey.  As  the  train  moved 
off  from  the  depot,  a  hand  was  placed  on  my  arm,  and  a 
familiar  voice  said  : 

"  Lord  bless  me  !  Kirke,  is  this  you  ?  " 

Looking  up,  I  saw  Mr.  Robert  Preston — or,  as  he  was 
known  among  his  acquaintance,  "Squire  Preston  of  Jones" — 
a  gentleman  whose  Northern  business  I  had  transacted  for  sev- 
eral years.  He  had  been  on  a  visit  to  some  Virginia  relatives, 
and  was  returning  to  his  plantation  on  the  Trent,  about  twenty 
miles  from  Newbern.  Though  I  had  never  been  at  his  home, 
he  had  often  visited  mine,  and  we  were  well — in  fact,  inti- 
mately acquainted.  I  soon  explained  that  I  was  on  the  way 
to  New  Orleans,  and  mentioned  that  I  might,  on  my*  return, 
seek  the  route  to  his  plantation.     He  urged  me  to  visit  it  at 


42  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

once,  and  I  finally  consented  to  do  so.  "We  rode  on  by  the 
cars  as  far  as  Goldsboro,  and  there,  after  a  few  hours'  rest,  and 
a  light  breakfast  of  corn-cake,  hominy,  and  bacon,  took  seats 
on  the  stage,  which  then  was  the  only  public  conveyance  to 
Newbern. 

Preston  was  an  intelligent,  cultivated  gentleman,  and,  at 
that  time,  appeared  to  be  about  thirty-three  years  of  age.  He 
was  tall,  athletic,  and  of  decidedly  prepossessing  appearance  ; 
and,  though  somewhat  careless  in  his  dress,  had  a  simple  dig- 
nity about  him  that  is  not  furnished  by  the  tailor.  The  firm 
lines  about  his  mouth,  his  strong  jaw,  wide  nostrils,  and  large 
nose — straight  as  if  cut  after  a  bevel — indicated  a  resolute,  de- 
termined character ;  but  his  large,  dreamy  eyes — placed  far 
apart,  as  if  to  give  fit  proportion  to  his  broad,  overhanging 
brows — showed  that  his  nature  was  as  gentle  and  tender  as  a 
woman's.  He  spoke  with  the  broad  Southern  accent,  and  his 
utterance  was  usually  slow  and  hesitating,  and  his  manner  quiet 
and  deliberate  ;  but  I  had  seen  him  when  his  words  came  like 
a  torrent  of  hot  lava,  when  his  eyes  flashed  fire,  his  thin  nos- 
trils opened  and  shut,  and  his  whole  frame  seemed  infused  with 
the  power  and  energy  of  the  steam  engine. 

Educated  for  the  ministry,  he  had  been  in  early  life  a  popu- 
lar preacher  in  the  Baptist  denomination,  but  at  the  date  of 
which  I  am  writing,  he  was  devoting  himself  to  the  care  of  his 
plantation,  and  preached  only  now  and  then,  when  away  from 
home,  or  when  the  little  church  at  Trenton  was  without  a  pas- 
tor. Altogether  he  was  a  man  to  be  remarked  upon.  A 
stranger  casually  meeting  him,  would  turn  back,  and  involun- 
tarily as£  :    "  Who  is  he  ?  " 

Only  five  of  the  nine  seats  inside  the  stage  were  occupied, 


A     STAGE-COACH      ADVBNTUBB,  43 

but  as  the  day,  though  cold,  was  clear  and  pleasant,  we  mount- 
ed the  box,  and  took  the  vacant  places  beside  the  driver. 
That  worthy  was  a  rough,  surly  character,  with  a  talent  for 
profanity  truly  wonderful.  His  horses  were  lean,  half-starved 
quadrupeds,  with  ribs  protruding  from  their  sides  like  hoops 
from  a  whiskey  barrel,  and  he  accounted  for  their  condition, 
and  for  the  scarcity  of  fences  on  the  highroad,  by  saying  that 
the  stage  owners  fed  them  on  rails ;  but  I  suspected  that  the 
constant  curses  he  discharged  at  their  heads,  had  worried  the 
flesh  off  their  bones,  and  induced  the  fences  to  move  to  a  less 
dangerous  latitude. 

On  the  top  of  the  coach,  coiled  away  on  a  pile  of  horse 
blankets,  was  a  woman  whose  dress  and  appearance  designated 
her  as  one  of  the  species  of  "white  trash"  known  in  North 
Carolina  as  "  clay-eaters."  She  was  about  thirty  years  of  age, 
and,  if  her  skin  had  been  bleached,  and  her  teeth  introduced  to 
a  scrubbing  brush,  might  have  passed  for  being  tolerably  good- 
looking.  After  a  number  of  preliminary  cracks  of  the  whip, 
and  sundry  oaths,  and  loud  shouts  administered  to  the  "  lead- 
ers," the  driver  got  under  way,  and  we  were  soon  jolting — at  a 
speed  of  about  four  miles  an  hour — over  the  "slews"  and  ruts 
made  by  the  recent  rains.  Shortly  after  we  started,  the  woman 
said  to  me  : 
■    "  I  say,  stranger,  ye  han't  no  'backer  'bout  ye,  hev  ye  ?  " 

I  was  about  to  say  I  had. none,  when  Preston  handed  her  a 
paper  of  "  Richmond  Sweet."  Without  pausing  to  thank  him, 
she  coolly  stuffed  nearly  a  half  of  it  into  her  mouth.  My  com- 
panion did  not  seem  at  all  surprised,  but  I  remarked : 

"  You  do  not  smoke,  then,  madam  ?  " 

"  Oli !  yas,  I  smokes  ;  but  I  durned  sight  d'ruther  chaw." 


44  MY      SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  cigar,"  I  said,  taking  one  from  taf 
pocket,  and  winking  at  Preston. 

"  I  never  smokes  them  sort  o'  things  ;  I  takes  nat'rally  ter 
pipes — did  when  I'se  a  gal,"  she  replied,  ejecting  a  mouthful 
of  saliva  of  the  color  of  her  skin. 

II  This  gentleman,"  said  the  Squire,  smiling,  "  isn't  fully  up 
to  our  ways.     He  thinks  it  queer  that  women  chew  tobacco.." 

"  Quar  thet  wimmin  chaws  !  Han't  the'  as  much  right  ter 
as  ye  ?  I  reckon  what's  good  fur  th'  gander  '11  do  fur  th' 
goose !  " 

u  Good  logic,  that,"  said  Preston,  laughing. 

The  woman  kept  on  expectorating  for  a  time,  when  she 
again  spoke  to  my  companion  : 

II I  say  !  ye  b'long  ter  Newbern,  doan't  ye  ?  " 
u  No,  not  now  ;  but  I  live  near  there." 

"  Ye  doan't  know  a  feller  down  thar  called  Mulock,  I 
doan't  s'pose — Bony  Mulock  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  ;   I  know  him  well." 

"  So  does  I.     I'm  gwine  ter  see  'im." 

"  Where  were  you  acquainted  ?  " 

"  Up  ter  Harnett — I  b'long  thar — nigh  on  ter  Chalk  Level. 
He  war  raised  thar." 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  but  he  left  there  long  ago." 

"  Xigh  on  ter  nine  year.     I'm  his  wife." 

"  You  his  wife  !  "  exclaimed  the  Squire,  turning  round  and 
looking  at  her. 

"  Yas.  He  put  eout  nine  year  ago,  and  I  han't  heerd  nor 
seed  nary  thing  on  him  sence,  till  a  spell  back.  But  I'll  stick 
ter  'im  this  time,  like  a  possum  ter  a  rail.  He  woan't  put  eout 
no  more,  ye  kin  bet  high  on  thet !  " 


A      STAiiK-t'OAi'il      ADVENTURE.  45 

11  But  he  has  another  wife  now  !  " 

"  Wall,  I  thort  he  moight  hev  ;  but  she'll  put  kind  o'  sud- 
den, I  reckon.     What  is  she — white  or  nigger?" 

JJ  She's  a  likely  quadroon  girl.  She's  almost  made  a  man 
of  him." 

-  Hi  Lordy  !  then  she's  right  smart.  I'm  gol-durned  ef  / 
could  !  " 

"  If  you  have  so  poor  an  opinion  of  him,  why  do  you  fol- 
low him  ?  " 

"  Wall,  I  goes  for  a  'ooman's  hevin'  bar  own.  When  he 
put  eout,  I  swore  ter  gol  I'd  foller  'im  as  soon  as  I  got  on  his 
trail,  ef  I  lied  ter  go  to  h — 11  fur  it !  " 

The  low  vulgarity  of  the  woman  disgusted  me,  and  it 
seemed  to  have  the  same  effect  on  the  Squire,  for  he  turned  his 
back  to  her  when  she  made  the  last  remark.  Not  appearing 
to  notice  his  manner,  she  said,  after  a  moment : 

"  I  say,  Gin'ral !  what  'bout  thet  stealin'  bisness  ?  " 

"  Bony  was  taken  up  a  while  back,  for  buying  turpentine 
of  the  negroes.     I  reckon  he's  in  jail  yet." 

"  Yas,  I  heerd  uv  thet — thet's  how  I  treed  'im.  Cunnel 
Lamsin — nigh  on  ter  me — he  seed  it  in  the  paper.  I  know'd 
'im  by  th'  Bonaparty.     When'll  he  be  mauled  ?  " 

"  Very  soon,  I  reckon.  He  was  sentenced  to  fifty  lashes  a 
week  ago." 

"  It'll  do  'im  good ;  I'd  given  'im  more'n  thet.  He  war 
allers  up  ter  dealin'  with  nigs." 

The  road,  when  we  started,  was  in  very  bad  condition,  and 
as  we  proceeded  it  grewT  gradually  worse,  till,  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  runs  where  we  then  were,  it  had  become  almost  impass- 
able.    We  frequently  turned  off  into  the  woods  and  open  fields 


46  MY      SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

to  avoid  the  worst  places,  but  even  there  the  jolting  of  the 
coach  was  so  violent  that  I  momentarily  expected  our  "lady" 
passenger  would  roll  off  into  the  mud.  Seeing  that  she  was  in 
absolute  danger,  and  being  also  willing  to  dispense  with  her 
refined  society,  I  finally  said  : 

"  Would  you  not  prefer  an  inside  seat  ?  " 

"  Yas,  I  would  ;  but  I  han't  th'  money  fur't.  The'  axed  so 
like  durnation  fur  totein'  me  in  thar,  I  couldn't  stan  it,  nohow." 

u  What  fare  did  she  pay,  driver  ?  "  I  asked  of  the  Jehu. 

"  Half  price." 

",That's  enough  for  seventy  miles  over  a  road  like  this. 
Let  her  get  inside." 

"  Karn't,  stranger  ;  'tan't  'lowed ;  (d'rot  yer  dirty  liide — 
you,  Jake — g'up  !)  the  old  man  would  raise  'tie'lar  (wha  'bout 
— g'lang,  ye  lazy  critter)  music  ef  I  done  thet." 

"  How  much  more  do  you  want  ?  "  I  inquired. 

11  The  whole  figur  (g'up  thar,  g'lang,  ye  durnation  brute)  ; 
nary  a  red  less." 

"  I  will  see  that  Dibble  finds  no  fault,  and  you  shall  '  mois- 
ten up'  at  the  doctor's,"  said  Preston. 

"  Wall,  Squire  (d — n  yer  rotten  pictur),  ef  ye  says  thet, 
(whoa — whoa,  thar,  ye  all-fired  rackabones — whoa  !)  it's  a 
trade." 

The  stage  halted,  and  the  woman  got  inside. 

We  arrived  at  Kinston  about  an  hour  after  noon,  and  after 
a  meagre  meal  at  "  the  doctor's  "  (that  gentleman  eked  out  a 
dull  practice  among  his  neighbors  by  a  sharp  practice  on  his 
guests),  again  mounted  the  stage.  We  had  proceeded  to 
within  eighteen  miles  of  Newbern,  when  suddenly,  as  the 
Squire  and   I   were   lighting  our  second  after-dinner   segars, 


A     BTAGE-COACH     ADVENTURE.  47 

n kcr-chunk n  went  one  of  the  forward  wheels,  and  overwent 
the  coach  in  a  twinkling.  I  saved  myself  by  clinging  to  the 
Beat,  but  Preston  was  not  so  fortunate.  The  first  I  saw  of 
him  he  was  immersed  in  a  pool  of  water  some  ten  feet  distant. 
Luckily  the  ground  was  soft,  and  he  escaped  personal  injury  ; 
but  when  lie  rose  to  his  feet,  his  coat,  like  Joseph's,  was  of 
many  colors,  a  dull  elayey-red  predominating. 

It  was  fortunate  for  the  clay-eating  feminine  that  her  con- 
versation had  disgusted  us.  Had  she  remained  outside,  she 
might  have  sighed  for  her  "  Bonaparty"  in  the  torrid  region  of 
which  she  had  spoken. 

The  other  passengers  escaped  with  a  few  bruises,  and  after 
an  hour's  exercise  with  rails  and  saplings,  we  succeeded  in  pry- 
ing the  wheels  out  of  the  mire.  Then  the  driver  discovered 
that  one  of  the  horses  had  lost  its  shoes,  and  insisted  on  hav- 
ing them  replaced  before  proceeding.  We  were  midway  be- 
tween two  "  relay  houses,"  and  the  Jehu  decided  on  taking  the 
shoeless  horse  back  to  the  station  we  had  passed.  As  he  was 
unharnessing  the  animal,  I  said  to  him  : 

u  You  say  there  is  a  blacksmith  at  each  station — why  not 
go  to  the  one  ahead  ?     It  will  save  time." 

"  The  boy  at  Tom's  store's  run  off.  Thar  an't  nary  a  nig 
thar  to  hold  the  critter's  huff." 

"Cannot  the  blacksmith  do  that  himself?  I  never  heard 
of  its  taking  two  men  to  shoe  one  horse  !  " 

M  Wall,  it  do,  stranger.  I  reckon  ye  never  done  thet  sort 
o'  bisness." 

"  But  can't  you  do  it  ?  " 

"/do  it !  My  bisness  ar  drivin'  hosses,  not  shoein'  on  'em. 
When  I  takes  ter  thet  111  let  ye  know  !  " 


48  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

He  had  by  that  time  taken  off  the  harness,  and  was  pre- 
paring to  mount  the  animal. 

M  Come,  come,  my  good  fellow,  do  not  go  back  for  that. 
Go  on,  and  Til  hold  the  horse's  feet." 

"  Ye  hold  'em  !  I  reckon  ye  wull !  I'd  like  ter  see  a  man 
uv  yer  cloth  a-holdin'  a  critter's  fut !  Ha !  ha  !  "  Then 
throwing  his  leg  over  the  horse's  bare  back,  he  added  :  "  We 
doan't  come  it  over  trav'lers  thet  way,  in  this  deestrict — we 
doan't.  We  use  'em  like  folks — we  do.  Ye  can  bet  yer  pile 
on  thet !  " 

Preston,  who  had  been  quietly  enjoying  the  dialogue,  as 
the  driver  rode  away,  said  to  me  : 

"  I  knew  you  wouldn't  make  anything  out  of  him.  Come, 
let  us  walk  on  ;  a  little  exercise,  after  our  warm  work,  will  do 
us  good." 

Leaving  the  other  passengers  to  await  the  motions  of  the 
driver,  the  blacksmith,  and  the  black  "  huff  "-holder,  we  trudged 
on  through  the  mud,  and  in  about  two  hours  reached  the  next 
station. 

The  reader  will  find  the  spot  which  bears  the  dignified  cog- 
nomen of  "  Tom's  Store,"  if  he  looks  on  the  map  of  North 
Carolina.  It  is  there  destitute  of  a  name,  but  is  plainly  desig- 
nated by  the  circular  character  which  is  applied  by  geographers 
to  villages.  It  is  situated  on  a  small  tributary  of  the  Neuse, 
and  consists  of  a  one-story  building  about  twenty  feet  wide,  and 
forty  feet  long,  divided  into  two  apartments,  and  built  of  pine 
slabs.  One  half  of  it,  at  the  date  of  my  visit,  was  sparsely 
occupied  with  drygoods,  groceries,  fishhooks,  log  chains,  goose 
yokes,  tin  pans,  cut  nails,  and  Jews'  harps,  while^he  other  was 
densely  crowded  with  logwood,  "dog-leg,"  strychnine,  juniper 


A      STAGE-COACH     ADVENT  U  HE.  49 

berries,  New  England  rum,  and  cistern  water,  all  mixed  to- 
gether. The  latter  region  was  the  more  populous  neighbor- 
hood, and  was  absolutely  packed  with  thirsty  natives,  imbibing 
certain  fluids  known  at  the  South  as  "blue  ruin,"  " bust-head," 
"red-eye,"  "tangle-foot,"  "rifle- whiskey,"  and  "devil's  dye," 
at  the  rate  of  a  "bit"  a  glass,  and  of  four  "bits"  for  "  as  much 
as  a  man  could  tote." 

I  was  introduced  by  the  Squire  to  Tom  himself,  the  illus- 
trious founder  of  the  village.  He  was  a  stout,  bloated  speci- 
men of  humanity,  with  a  red,  pimpled  face,  a  long  grizzly 
beard,  small  inflamed  eyes,  and  a  nose  that  might  have  been 
mistaken  for  a  peeled  beet.  His  whole  appearance  showed 
that  he  was  an  habitu6  of  the  more  fashionable  quarter  of  his 
village  (the  groggery),  and  a  liberal  imbiber  of  his  own  com- 
pounds. He  informed  me  that  he  did  a  "right  smart"  busi- 
ness; bought  dry  goods  in  "York,"  "sperrets"  in  'Hio,  and 
rum  in  Bostin' ;  and  he  added  :  "  Stranger,  I  never  keeps  none 
but  th'  clar  juice,  th'  raal,  genuwine  critter,  d — d  ef  I  do. 
Come,  take  a  drink." 

I  declined,  when  a  bystander,  who  seemed  to  know — he 
could  scarcely  keep  his  feet, — overhearing  the  remark,  con- 
firmed it,  by  saying  with  a  big  oath  : 

"  It's  so,  stranger ;  Tom  do  keep  th'  reg'lar  critter,  th'  clar 
juice  !  Thar's  no  mistake  'bout  thet,  fur  it  gits  tight  itself 
every  cold  snap  !  " 

When  we  arrived,  about  a  hundred  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren were  assembled  on  the  cleared  plot  in  front  of  the  store, 
witnessing  a  "  turkey  match."  Wishing  to  avoid  the  noisy 
crowd,  and  being  fatigued  with  our  long  tramp  over  the  muddy 
road,  my  companion  and  I  entered  the  mere  reputable  portion 
3 


50  MY     SOUTHEKJf     FRIENDS. 

of  the  store  in  quest  of  a  seat.  It  was  nearly  deserted.  A 
lazy  yellow  boy  was  stretched  at  full  length  on  the  pine  coun- 
ter which  kept  customers  at  an  honest  distance  from  the  rows 
of  half-filled  shelves  occupying  three  sides  of  the  room,  and  on 
a  low  bench  in  front  of  him  sat  a  woman  and  two  children. 
These  four  were  the  only  persons  in  the  apartment.  The 
woman  seemed  to  be  not  more  than  twenty-five,  and  was 
dressed  in  a  neat  calico  gown,  and  had  a  tidy  appearance. 
She  wore  a  thin  woollen  shawl,  a  clean  red  and  yellow  turban, 
white  cotton  stockings,  and  coarse  untanned  shoes.  These  last 
were  nearly  new,  and  very  clumsy,  and,  like  the  rest  of  her 
costume,  were  travel-stained  and  bespattered  with  mud.  She 
had  evidently  walked  a  long  distance  that  morning. 

Her  figure  was  slight  and  graceful,  and  her  face  very  beau- 
tiful. She  had  long,  black,  glossy  hair,  straight,  regular  fea- 
tures, a  rich  olive  complexion,  and  large,  lustrous  eyes,  which, 
as  she  sat  opposite  the  open  door,  were  fixed  on  the  thick, 
gloomy  woods,  with  an  earnest,  almost  agonized  gaze,  as  if  she 
were  reading  in  its  tangled  depths  the  dark,  uncertain  future 
that  lay  before  her.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  expression  of  her 
face.  Never  have  I  seen  its  look  of  keen,  intense  agony,  and 
its  full,  perfect,  utter  despair.  One  of  the  children  was  a  little 
girl  of  eight  years,  with  a  sweet,  hopeful  expression,  a  clear 
rosy  skin,  and  brown,  wavy  hair ;  and  the  other,  a  little  mu- 
latto boy,  a  few  years  older.  They  each  held  one  of  the 
woman's  hands,  and  something  peculiar  in  their  attitudes  made 
me  look  closely  at  them.  A  thin  piece  of  iron,  called  by  slave 
traders  a  "bracelet,"  encircled  their  wrists,  and  fastened  their 
arms  to  the  woman's  !     They  were  slaves  ! 

I  entered  the  cabin  a  few  steps  in  advance  of  Preston,  who 


A     STAGE-COACH     ADVENTURE.  51 

paused  in  the  doorway  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  group.  The 
woman  did  not  notice  him,  but  his  face  turned  to  a  marble 
white,  and  his  voice  trembled  with  emotion,  as  he  exclaimed  : 

"  My  God  !   Phyllis,  is  this  you  ?  " 

The  woman  sprang  to  her  feet,  took  one  step  forward,  and 
sank  to  the  floor.  Stretching  out  her  shackled  arms,  bound  to 
the  children  as  they  were,  she  clasped  his  knees,  and  cried  out : 

u  Oh  Master  Robert !  dear  Master  Robert,  save  me  !  Oh  ! 
save  me  ;  for  the  love  of  the  dear  children,  save  me  !  " 

The  little  boy  and  girl  caught  hold  of  his  skirts,  and  both, 
crying  hard,  turned  their  faces  up  to  his.     The  younger  said  : 

"  Oh  !  do,  massa !  take  us  'way  from  dis  man  ;  he  bery 
bad,  massa.  He  whip  you'  little  Rosey  'case  she  couldn't  walk 
all  de  way — all  de  way  yere,  massa  !  " 

The  water  gathered  in  Preston's  eyes,  as  he  asked : 

"  Why  did  they  sell  you,  Phyllis  ?  Why  didn't  I  know 
of  it?" 

"  Missus  went  to  you,  Master  Robert,  but  you  warn't  to 
home.  Master  had  to  have  the  money  right  off.  The  trader 
was  thar.  Master  couldn't  wait  till  you  come  back.  Oh  ! 
save  me,  Master  Robert !  He's  takin'  me  to  Orleans,  to  Or- 
leans !  Do  save  me !  Think  of  the  chil'ren,  Master  Robert. 
Oh  !  think  of  the  chil'ren  !  "  and  she  loosened  her  hold  of  his 
limbs,  and  wept  as  if  her  very  heart  was  breaking. 

Preston's  words  came  thick  and  broken,  his  frame  shook, 
he  almost  groaned,  as  he  said : 

"  I  would  to  God  that  I  could,  Phyllis ;  but  I  am  in  debt — 
pressed  on  every  side.  I  could  not  raise  the  money  to  save 
my  soul ! " 

"  Oh  my  God  !    what  will  become  of  us  ?  "    exclaimed  the 


52  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

woman.  "Think  of  little  Lule,  Master  Robert!  They've 
taken  me  'way  from  her  !  Oh  !  what  will  become  of  us,  Mas- 
ter Robert  ?  what  will  become  of  us  ?  " 

Preston  stood  like  a  man  on  whom  the  sentence  of  death 
had  fallen.  A  cold,  glassy  look  came  into  his  eyes,  a  thick, 
heavy  sweat  started  from  his  forehead ;  his  iron  limbs  seemed 
giving  way  under  him.  Placing  my  hand  on  his  shoulder,  I 
asked : 

"  How  much  is  needed,  my  friend  ?  " 

11 1  don't  know,"  he  replied,  pressing  his  hands  to  his  head 
as  if  to  keep  it  from  bursting.      "  How  much,  Phylly  ?  " 

"  Twelve  hundred,  Master  Robert — they  sold  us  for  twelve 
hundred." 

11  "Well,  well,  my  good  woman,  don't  feel  badly.  I'll  let 
Master  Robert  have  the  money." 

The  woman  stared  at  me  incredulously  for  a  moment ; 
then,  while  the  children  came  and  clung  to  me  as  if  I  were  an 
old  friend,  she  said  : 

"  Oh  !  bless  you,  sir !  bless  you !  I  will  love  you,  sir ! 
The  children  will  forever  love  you  for  it." 

A  struggle  seemed  to  be  going  on  in  Preston's  mind.  He 
was  silent  for  some  moments ;  then,  in  a  slow,  undecided  voice, 
he  said  : 

u  It  would  not  be  right ;  I  can't  take  it,  Kirke.  I  owe  you 
now.  I'm  in  debt  elsewhere.  A  judgment  has  been  got 
against  me.  My  crops  have  turned  out  poorly.  I've  been  to 
Virginia  for  money,  and  can't  get  a  dollar.  It  would  not  be 
honest.     I  can't  take  it." 

No  words  can  picture  the  look  on  the  woman's  face,  as  she 
cried : 


A     STAGE-COACH     ADVENTURE.  53 

«  Oh  !  do  take  it,  Master  Robert !  Do  take  it.  I'll  work. 
I'll  make  it.  I  can  make  it  very  soon,  Master  Robert.  Oh  \ 
do  take  it !  " 

M  How  much  is  the  judgment  ?  "  I  asked. 

M  Only  six  hundred ;    but  old  has  it,  and  he  has  no 

mercy.  He'll  have  the  money  at  once,  or  sell  everything — the 
negroes — everything !  "  and  he  choked  down  the  heavy  groan 
which  half  escaped  his  lips. 

"  Have  you  no  produce  at  home  ?  " 

"  About  a  thousand  barrels  of  rosin.  But  the  river  is  low  ; 
I  can't  get  it  down." 

u  Well,  that's  worth  five  hundred  dollars  where  it  is.  Any 
cotton  ?  " 

"  Only  eleven  bales — low  middling." 

"  That's  three  hundred  more.  Consider  it  ours,  and  draw 
at  ninety  days  for  the  whole,  judgment  and  all." 

The  woman  had  risen  during  this  conversation,  and  stood 
with  her  eyes  riveted  on  our  faces,  as  if  her  eternal  destiny 
hung  on  our  words.  "When  I  made  the  last  remark,  she  stag- 
gered toward  me  and  fell,  as  if  dead,  at  my  feet.  I  brought 
water  from  the  stream  hard  by,  and  we  soon  restored  her  to 
herself.  Preston  then  lifted  her  from  the  floor,  and  placing 
her  tenderly  on  the  bench,  said,  turning  to  me : 

"  You  cannot  understand  how  much  you  have  done  for  me. 
"Words  are  weak — they  cannot  tell  you.  I  will  pay  you  out  of 
the  next  crop.     Meanwhile  I  will  re-draw,  and  keep  it  afloat." 

"Do  as  you  like  about  that.  Where  is  your  owner, 
Phyllis  ?  " 

"  Outside,  dear  master.  You'll  know  him.  He's  more  of 
us  pore  creatures  with  him." 


54  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  Come,  Preston,  let's  see  him  at  once ;  we've  no  time  to 
lose.     The  stage  will  be  along  soon." 

"I've  no  heart  for  trading  now.  You  manage  it,  my 
friend." 

"  Well,  as  you  say ;  but  you'd  better  be  with  me.     Come." 

"  I  will,  in  a  moment" 

He  lingered  behind,  and,  when  I  left  the  cabin,  was  speak- 
ing in  a  low  tone  to  the  slave  woman.  Thinking  he  would  fol- 
low in  a  moment,  I  went  in  quest  of  the  trader. 


CHAPTER  IT. 


THE     NEGBO     TBADEB. 


On  the  cleared  plot  in  front  of  the  store  were  assembled,  aa 
I  have  said,  about  a  hundred  men,  women,  and  children,  wit- 
nessing a  "  turkey  match."  It  was  a  motley  gathering.  All 
classes  and  colors  and  ages  were  there.  The  young  gentleman 
who  boasted  his  hundred  darkies,  and  the  small  planter  who 
worked  in  the  field  with  his  five  negroes ;  the  "  poor  trash " 
who  scratched  a  bare  subsistence  from  a  sorry  patch  of  beans 
and  "collards,"  and  the  swearing,  staggering  bully,  who  did 
not  condescend  to  do  anything;  the  brawny  field  hand  who 
had  toiled  over  night  to  finish  his  task  in  time  for  "  de 
shootin',"  and  the  well-dressed  body  servant  who  had  roused 
"young  massa  oncommon  airly"  for  the  same  purpose;  all, 
white,  black,  and  yellow— and  some  neither  white,  black,  nor 
yellow — were  scattered  over  various  parts  of  the  ground,  en- 
gaged in  lounging,  playing,  drinking,  smoking,  chatting,  swear- 
ing, wrangling,  and  looking  on  at  the  turkey  match. 

A  live  turkey  was  tied  to  an  ordinary  bean  pole,  and,  when 
I  emerged  from  the  cabin,  seven  or  eight  "  natives  "  had  en- 
tered for  "  a  shot."  The  payment  of  a  "  bit,"  "  cash  down," 
to  Tom,  who  officiated  as  master  of  ceremonies,  secured  a 
chance  of  hitting  the  turkey's  head  with  a  rifle  bullet  at  "  long 


56  MY     SOUTHERN     FKIE5DS. 

distance."  Any  other  "hit"  was  considered  "foul,"  and 
passed  for  nothing.  Whoever  took  the  prize,  was  expected  to 
"  treat  the  crowd."  As  "  the  crowd  "  seemed  a  thirsty  one,  it 
struck  me  that  turkey  would  prove  expensive  eating  to  the 
fortunate  shots ;  but  they  were  oblivious  of  expense,  and  in  a 
state  of  mind  that  unfitted  them  for  close  financial  calculations. 
Nearly  every  marksman  present  had  "  carried  off  his  poul- 
try," and  Tom  already  had  reaped  a  harvest  of  dimes  from  the 
whiskey  drinking.  "Why,  bless  ye,"  he  said  to  me,  "I  should 
be  broke,  clean  done  up,  ef  it  warn't  fur  the  drinks.  I  haint 
got  more'n  a  bit,  or  three  fips,  fur  nary  fowl.  The  fust  shot 
allers  brings  down  the  bird  ;  ary  man  on  'em  kin  hit  a  turkey's 
eye  at  a  hundred  paces."  This  was  true  ;  and  in  such  schools 
were  trained  the  unerring  marksmen  who  are  now  "  bringing 
down  "  the  bravest  youth  of  our  country,  like  fowls  at  a  turkey 
match. 

A  disturbance  had  broken  out  on  a  remote  part  of  the 
ground,  and,  noticing  about  twenty  negro  men  and  women 
seated  on  a  log  near  by,  I  went  in  that  direction,  in  hopes  of 
meeting  the  negro  trader.  It  was  a  dog  fight.  Inside  an 
imaginary  ring  about  ten  feet  in  diameter,  two  dogs  were 
clenched  in  what  seemed  a  life-and-death  struggle.  One  was 
holding  the  other  down  by  the  lower  jaw,  while  a  man,  evi« 
dently  the  owner  of  the  half-vanquished  brute,  was  trying  to 
separate  them.  Outside  this  ring  about  twenty  other  brutes — 
men,  women,  and  children — were  cheering  the  combatants,  and 
calling  on  the  meddler  to  desist.  It  was  strange  how  the 
peacemaker  managed  to  stand  up  against  the  volleys  of  oaths 
showered  upon  him.  He  did,  however,  and  persisted  in  his 
laudable  efforts,  till  a  tall,  rawboned,  heavy -jawed  fellow  stepped 


THE      NEGRO     TRADER.  57 

into  the  ring,   and  grasped  him  by  the  collar,  saying  :   "  Let 

'em     be  —  it's   a    fair    fight  ;     d n    yer    pictui  —  let   'em 

alone." 

"  Take  thet !  ye  whelp,"  said  the  ^ther,  planting  a  heavy 
blow  between  the  intruder's  eyes.  Blow  followed  blow  ;  they 
clenched  ;  went  down  ;  rose  up  ;  fought  on — at  one  end  of  the 
ring  the  canines,  at  the  other  the  fighters;  while  the  rest 
looked  on,  shouting,  "  Let  'er  rip  !  Go  in,  Wade !  Hit  'im 
agin  !  Smash  his  mug  !  Pluck  the  grizzly  !  Hurrah  fur 
Smith  !  Never  say  die  !  Go  in  agin  !  "  till  the  blood  flowed, 
and  dogs  and  men  rolled  over  on  the  ground  together. 

Disgusted  with  this  exhibition  of  nineteenth-century  civili- 
zation, I  turned  and  walked  away.  As  I  did  so,  I  noticed,  fol- 
lowing me  at  a  short  distance,  a  well-dressed  man  of  about 
thirty-five.  He  wore  a  slouched  hat,  a  gray  coat  and  pan- 
taloons, and  enormous  high-top  boots,  to  one  of  which  was 
affixed  a  brass  spur.  Over  his  shoulder,  holding  the  two  ends 
in  his  hand,  he  carried  a  strong,  flexible  whip,  silver  mounted, 
and  polished  like  patent  leather.  He  was  about  six  feet  high, 
stoutly  built,  with  a  heavy,  inexpressive  face,  and  a  clear,  sharp 
gray  eye.  One  glance  satisfied  me  that  he  was  the  negro 
trader. 

As  he  approached,  he  held  out  his  hand  in  a  free,  hearty 
way,  saying  :   "  Cunnel,  good  evenin'." 

"  Good  evenin',"  I  replied,  intentionally  adopting  his  ac- 
cent ;   "  but  yer  wrong,  stranger  ;  I'm  nary  cunnel." 

"  Well,  Major,  then  ?  " 

"  Xo,  Gin'ral ;  not  even  a  corp'ral." 

"  Then  ye're  Squire "  and  he  hesitated  for  me  to  fill  up 

the  blank. 

3* 


58  MY     SOUTHERN     FKIKNDS. 

"No;  not  even  Squire ,"  I  added,  laughing.     "I've 

nary  title  ;  I'm  plain  Mister  Kirke  ;  nothin'  else." 

"  Well,  Mister  Kirke,  ye're  the  fust  man  I've  met  in  the 
hull  Suthun  country  who  was  jest  nobody  at  all ;  and  drot  me 
ef  I  doan't  like  ye  fur't.  Ev'ry  d — d  little  upstart,  now-a-days, 
has  a  handle  ter  his  name — they  all  b'long  ter  the  nobility,  ha ! 
ha ! "  and  he  again  brought  his  hand  down  upon  mine  with  a 
concussion  that  made  the  woods  ring. 

"  Come,"  he  added,  "  let's  hev  a  drink." 

u  Proud  ter  drink  with  ye,  stranger  ;  but  I  karn't  go  Tom's 
sperrets  ;  it's  hard  ter  take." 

"Thet's  a  fact;  but  I  keeps  the  raal  stuff.  Thet's  the 
pizen  fur  ye,"  he  replied,  holding  up  a  small  willow  flask,  and 
starting  for  the  bar.  Entering  a  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke,  and 
groping  our  way  over  groups  of  drunken  chivalry,  who  lay 
u  loosely  around,"  we  approached  the  counter. 

"Har,  you  lousy  sorrel-top,"  said  the  trader  to  the  red-faced 
and  red-headed  bar  tender,  "  har,  give  us  some  mugs." 

"  Sorrel-top "  placed  two  glasses  on  the  counter,  and  my 
new  acquaintance  proceeded  to  rinse  them  thoroughly.  They 
were  of  a  clear  grass-green  color,  and  holding  one  up  to  the 
light,  the  trader  said :  "  Now  luk  a'  them.  Them's  'bout  as 
green  as  the  fellers  thet  drink  out  on  'em.  A  man's  stumac's 
got  ter  be  of  cast  iron  ter  stand  the  stuff  they  sell  yere." 

"  It's  better'n  you  kin  'ford  ter  drink,"  exclaimed  the  bar- 
tender, in  high  dudgeon. 

"  "Who  spoke  ter  ye  ? — take  thet !  "  rejoined  the  trader,  dis- 
charging the  contents  of  the  glass  full  in  the  man's  face.  The 
sorrel-crowned  worthy  bore  the  indignity  silently,  evidently 
deeming  discretion  the  better  part  of  valor 


T1IENKGRO     TRADER.  59 

"  Buy'n  ony  nigs,  Kirke  ?  "  said  the  trader,  inserting  his 
arm  in  mine,  and  leading  me  away  from  the  shanty.  "  I've 
got  a  prime  lot — prime  I  "  and  he  smacked  his  lips  at  the  last 
word,  in  the  manner  that  is  common  to  professional  liquor 
tasters.  He  scented  a  trade  afar  of£  and  his  organs  of  taste, 
sympathizing  with  his  olfactories,  gave  out  that  token  of  satis- 
faction. 

*  Well,  I  doan't  know.     What  ye  got  ?  " 

"Some  o'  the  likeliest  property  ye  ever  seed — men  and 
wimmin.  All  bought  round  liar ;  haint  ben  ter  Virginny  yit. 
Come  'long,  I'll  show  ye ; "  and  he  proceeded  toward  the 
group  of  chattels.  He  was  becoming  altogether  too  familiar , 
but  I  called  to  mind  a  favorite  maxim  of  good  old  Mr.  Russell 
— "  Necessity  has  no  law  " — and  quietly  submitted. 

The  negroes  were  seated  on  a  fallen  pine,  and  were  chained 
together  by  the  wrists,  in  gangs  of  four  or  five,  the  outside  one 
having  one  hand  secured  by  a  cord  bound  about  the  waist. 
The  men  wore  woollen  hats,  and  the  women  neat  Madras  tur- 
bans, and  both  had  thick  linsey  clothing,  warm  enough  for  any 
weather.  Their  dusky  faces  were  sleek  and  oily,  and  their 
kinky  locks  combed  as  straight  as  nature  would  permit.  The 
trader  had  "rigged  them  up,"  as  a  jockey  "rigs  up"  horses  for 
market. 

Pausing  before  a  brawny  specimen  of  the  yellow  species,  he 
said :  "  Thar,  Kirke,  luk  o'  thar ;  thar's  a  boy  fur  ye — a  nig 
thet  kin  work ;  'tend  ten  thousand  boxes  (turpentine)  easy. 
He's  the  sort.  Prime  stuff,  thet  (feeling  of  his  arms  and 
thighs)  ;  hard — hard  as  rock — siners  like  rope.  Come  o'  good 
stock,  he  did — the  old  Devereaux  blood  (a  highly  respectable 
family  in  those  parts)  ;   they's  the  raal  quality — none  on  yer 


GO  MY     SOUTHEEN     FRIENDS. 

shams  and  mushrooms,  but  genuwine  'stockracy — blamed  ef 
they  haint.     "What  d'ye  say  ter  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  moight  do,  p'raps ;  but  I  rather  reckon  ye've 
done  him  up  some — 'iled  his  face,  greased  his  wool,  and  sech 
like.  It's  all  right,  ye  knows — onything's  far  in  trade ;  but  ye 
karn't  come  it  over  me,  ole  feller.  I'm  up  ter  sech  doin's.  I 
am,  Mr. ,"  and  I  paused  for  him  to  finish  the  sentence. 

"  Larkin,"  he  added  quickly  and  good-humoredly  ;   "  Jake 

Larkin,  and  yours,  by ,"   and  he  gave  my  hand  another 

skake.  "  Yer  one  on  'em,  I  swar,  and  I  own  up ;  I  hev  'iled 
'em  a  trifle — jest  a  trifle ;  but  ye  kin  see  through  thet.  "We 
hev  ter  do  it  ter  fix  the  green  'uns,  ye  knows." 

"  Yes,  I  knows — 'iled  'em  inside  and  out,  haint  ye  ?  " 

"  No,  on  my  soul ;  only  one  glass  ter  day — true  as 
preachin'." 

"  Boy,"  I  said  to  the  yellow  man,  "  how  much  whiskey  hev 
ye  drunk  ter  day  ?     Now,  tell  the  truth." 

"Nary  drop,  massa;  hed  a  moufful  o'  sjperrets — a  berry 
little  moufful ;  dat's  all." 

"  'Taint  'nough,  Larkin !  Come,  now,  doan't  be  mean  with 
nigs.  Give  'em  some  more — some  o'  thet  tall  brandy  o'  yourn  ; 
a  good  swig.  They  karn't  stand  it  out  yere  in  the  cold  without 
a  little  warmin'  up." 

"  Well,  I'm  blamed  ef  I  won't.  Har,  you,  Jim,"  speaking 
to  a  well-dressed  darky  lounging  near ;  "  har,  go  ter  thet  red- 
headed woodpecker,  thar  at  the  cabin,  and  tell  him  I'll  smash 
his  peepers  ef  he  doan't  send  me  some  glasses  ter  onst — d'ye 
yere?   Go." 

The  gentlemanly  darky  went,  and  soon  returned  with  the 
glass-ware  ;    and  meanwhile  Larkin  directed  another  well-clad 


THE     NEGRO     TRADER.  61 

negro  man  to  "  fotch  the  jugs."  They  were  strung  across  the 
hack  of  a  horse  which  was  tied  near,  and,  uncorking  one  of 
them,  the  trader  said  :  "  I  allers  tote  my  own  pizen.  'Taint 
right  to  give  even  nigs  sech  hell-fire  as  they  sell  round  har ;  it 
gits  a  feller's  stumac  used  ter  Tophet  'fore  the  rest  on  him  is 
'climated." 

"  Well,  it  does,"  I  replied ;  "  it's  the  devil's  own  warmin' 
pan." 

Each  negro  received  a  fair  quantity  of  the  beverage,  and 
seemed  the  better  for  it.  A  little  brandy,  "  for  the  stomach's 
sake,"  is  enjoyed  by  those  dusky  denizens  of  the  low  lati- 
tudes. 

"When  they  were  all  supplied,  the  trader  said  to  me : 
M  Now,  what  d'ye  say,  Kirke  ?  THiat'll  ye  give  fur  the 
boy  ?  " 

u  "Well,  I  reckon  I  doan't  want  no  boy  now ;  and  I  doan't 
know  as  I  wants  ary  'ooman  nother ;  but  if  ye've  got  a  right 
likely  gal — one  thet'll  sew,  and  nuss  good — I  moight  buy  har 
fur  a  friend  o'  mine.  His  wife's  hed  twins,  and  he  moight  use 
har  ter  look  arter  the  young  'uns." 

u  Young  or  old  ?  " 

"  Young  and  sprightly." 

"  They  is  high,  ye  knows ;  but  thar's  a  gal  thet'll  suit.  Git 
up,  gals  ;  "  and  a  row  of  five  women  rose.  "  No  ;  git  up  thar, 
whar  we  kin  see  ye."  They  stepped  up  on  the  log.  M  Xow, 
thar's  a  gal  fur  ye,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  a  clean,  tidy 
mulatto  woman,  not  more  than  nineteen,  with  a  handsome  but 
meek,  sorrow-marked  face.  "  Luk  at  thet !  "  and  he  threw  up 
her  dress  to  her  knees,  while  the  poor  girl  reached  down  her 
shackled  hands  in  the  vain  effort  to  prevent  the  indignity.     He 


62  MY     SOUTHEBN     FRIENDS. 

was  about  to  show  off  other  good  points,  when  I  said :  "  Never 
mind  ;  I  see  what  she  is.     Let  'em  git  down." 

They  resumed  their  seats,  and  he  continued :  "  Thet's  jest 
the  gal  ye  wants,  Kirke.  Good  at  nussin',  wet  or  dry.  Good 
at  breedin',  too ;  hed  two  young  'uns  a'ready.  Ye  kin 
*  *  *  *  *  ii  ^Tlie  rest  0f  thig  discourse  w]!  not  bear 
repeating.) 

u  No,  thank  you." 

"  "Well,  jest  as  ye  say.  She's  sound,  though  ;  sold  fur  no 
fault.  Har  young  massa's  ben  a-usin'  on  har — young  'uns  are 
his'n.  Old  man  got  pious;  couldn't  stand  sech  doin's,  no- 
how— ter  home  ;  so  he  says  ter  me,  ■  Jake,'  says  he,  '  take  har 
ter  Orleans ;  she's  jest  the  sort  5  ye'll  make  money  sellin'  har 
ter  some  o'  them  young  bloods.'  Ha !  ha  !  thet's  religion  fur 
ye  !  I  doan't  know,  Kirke,  mebbe  ye  b'long  ter  the  church, 
and  p'raps  ye're  one  o'  the  screamin'  sort ;  but  onyhow,  I  say, 
d — n  sech  religion  as  thet.  Jake  Larkin's  a  spectator,  but  he 
wouldn't  do  a  thing  like  thet ;  ef  he  would,  d — n  him." 

(The  dealer  in  negroes  never  applies  the  term  "  trader  "  to 
himself;  he  prefers  the  softer  word,  "speculator."  The  phrase 
"  negro  trader,"  is  used  only  by  the  rest  of  the  community, 
who  are  "  holier  than  he.") 

"I  doan't  b'lieve  ye  would,  Larkin ;  yer  a  good  feller,  at 
bottom,  I  reckon." 

"  Well,  Kirke,  ye're  a  trump.     Come,  hev  another  drink." 

"  No ;  excuse  me ;  karn't  stand  more'n  one  horn  a  day : 
another'd  lay  me  out  flatter'n  a  stewpan.  But  ter  business. 
How  much  fur  thet  gal — cash  down  ?     Come,  talk  it  out." 

"  Well,  at  a  word — twelve  hun'red." 

"  Too  much — bigger'n  my  pile  ;  couldn't  put  so  much  inter 


THE     NEGRO     TRADER.  03 

one  gal,  nohow.     Wouldn't  give  thet  money  fur  ary  nig  in 
Car'lina." 

"  Oh,  buy  me,  good  massa.  Mister  Larkin  '11  take  less'n  dat, 
I  reckon ;  do  buy  me,"  cried  the  girl,  who  had  been  eying  me 
very  closely  during  the  preceding  dialogue. 

"  I  would,  my  good  girl,  if  I  could ;  but  you'll  not  exactly 
suit  my  friend." 

"Buy  har  fur  yourself,  then,  Kirke.  She'll  suit  you. 
She's  sound,  I  tell  ye ;  ye'd  make  money  on  har." 

"Not  much,  I  reckon,"  I  replied,  dryly. 

"  Why  not  ?     She'll  breed  like  a  rabbit.     *     *     *    *    *  " 

"  I  wouldn't  own  her  for  the  whole  State.  If  I  had  her, 
I'd  free  her  on  the  spot !  "  The  cool  bestiality  of  the  trader 
disgusted  me,  and  I  forgot  myself. 

He  started  back  surprised,  then  quietly  remarked:  "Ye're 
a  Xuthuner,  I  swar ;  no  corncracker  ever  held  sech  doctrines 
as  them." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  dropping  the  accent  which  my  blunder 
had  rendered  useless  ;  "  I  am  a  Northerner ;  but  I  want  a 
nurse,  notwithstanding,  for  a  friend." 

"  Whar  d'ye  live  ?  "  asked  the  trader,  in  the  same  free, 
good-natured  tone  as  before. 

"  In  New  York." 

"In  York!  What!  yer  not  Mr.  Kirke,  of  Randall, 
Kirke  &  Co.  ?  But,  blamenation,  ye  ar !  How  them  whis- 
kers has  altered  ye  !  I  thort  I'd  seed  ye  afore.  Haint  ye 
come  it  over  me  slick  ?  Tuk  in  clean — swollered  whole.  But 
thar's  my  hand,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  I'm  right  glad  ter  see  ye." 

"  Where  have  you  met  me,  my  good  fellow  ?  I  don't  re- 
member you." 


64  MY     SOUTHEKN     FRIENDS. 

"Down  ter  Orleans.  Seed  ye  inter  Rove,  Struthers  & 
Co.'s.  The  ole  man  thinks  a  heap  o'  you.  Ye  give  'em  a  pile 
o'  business,  doan't  ye  ?  " 

"  No ;  not  much  of  our  own.  They  buy  cotton  for  our 
English  correspondents,  and  negotiate  through  us ;  that  is  all. 
Roye  is  a  fine  old  gentleman." 

"  Yes,  he  ar  ;  I'm  in  with  him." 

"  How  in  with  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  in  this  business.  "We  go  snacks ;  I  does  the 
buyin',  and  he  finds  the  rocks.  "We  use  a  pile — sometimes  a 
hun'red,  sometimes  two  hun'red  thousand." 

11  Is  it  possible  !     Then  you  do  a  large  business  ?  " 

"  Yes,  right  smart.  I  handle  'bout  a  thousand,  big  and 
little,  ev'ry  year." 

"  That  is  large.  You  do  not  buy  and  sell  them  all,  your- 
self, do  you  ?  " 

"  Oh !  no ;  I  hardly  ever  sells.  Once  in  a  while  I  run 
agin  a  buyer,  like  you — ha !  ha ! — and  let  one  drap ;  but 
gin'rally  I  cage  'em ;  and  when  I  git  'bout  a  hun'red  together, 
take  'em  ter  Orleans,  and  auction  'em  off.  Thar's  no  fuss  and 
dicker  'bout  thet,  ye  knows." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  how  do  you  manage  so  large  a  gang? 
I  should  think  some  would  get  away." 

"  No,  they  doan't.  I  put  the  ribands  on  'em ;  and,  'sides, 
ye  see  them  boys,  thar  ?  "  pointing  to  three  splendid  specimens 
of  property,  loitering  near ;  "  I've  hed  them  boys  nigh  on  ter 
ten  year,  and  I  haint  lost  nary  nig  sence  I  had  'em.  They're 
cuter  and  smarter  nor  I  ar,   ony  day." 

"  Then  you  pick  the  negroes  up  round  the  country,  and 
send  them  to  a  rendezvous,  where  you  put  them  in  jail  till  you 
make  up  your  number  ?  " 


TIIE     NEGRO     TEADER.  65 

"  Yes ;  I'm  pickin'  some  up  round  yere,  now,  ye  see,  and 
takin'  'em  ter  Goldsboro'.  "When  I've  toted  'em  down  thar, 
the  boys  and  I'll  go  up  ter  Virginny." 

"  Why  don't  you  send  them  on  by  stage  ?  I  should  think 
it  would  hurt  them  to  camp  out  at  this  season." 

"  Hurt  'em  1  Lord  bless  ye,  fresh  air  never  hurt  a  nig. 
They're  never  so  happy  as  sleepin'  on  the  groun',  with  nothin' 
over  'em,  and  thar  heels  close  ter  a  light-wood  fire." 

M  But  the  delicate  house- women,  and  the  children — can 
they  bear  it  ?  " 

"  It  do  come  a  trifle  hard  on  them,  but  it  doan't  last  long. 
I  allers  takes  ter  the  railroad  when  I  gits  a  gang  together." 

u  "Well,  come  ;  I  want  a  woman.     Show  me  all  you  have." 

"  Do  you  mean  so,  raalJy,  Mr.  Kirke  ?  I  thort  ye  wus 
a  comin'  it  on  me  ;  and  I  swar  ye  does  do  the  Suthun  like  a 
native.  I'm  blamed  ef  I  didn't  s'pose  ye  b'longed  round  yere. 
Ha  !  ha  !     How  the  ole  man  would  larf  ter  hear  it !  " 

"  But  I  am  a  native,  Larkin ;  born  within  sight  of  Bunker 
Hill." 

"  Yes,  thet  kind  o'  native  ;  and  them's  the  sort,  too.  Tlfey 
make  all-fired  smart  spec'lators.  I  knows  a  dozen  on  'em,  thet 
hev  made  thar  pile,  and  haint  older'n  I  ar,  nother." 

11  Is  it  possible  ! — Yankees  in  this  business  ?  " 

"  Yes,  lots  on  'em.  Some  on  yer  big  folks  up  ter  York 
and  Bostin  are  in  it  deep ;  but  they  go  the  'portin'  line, 
gin'rally,  and  thet d — d  ef  Pd  do  it,  onyhow." 

M  Well,  about  the  woman.  None  of  these  will  do ;  are 
ihey  all  you  have  ?  " 

14  No  ;  I've  got  one  more,  but  I've  sort  o'  'lotted  har  ter  a 
young  feller  down  ter  Orleans.     He  axed  me  ter  git  him  jest 


66  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

seen  a  gal.  She's  'most  white,  and  brought  up  tender  like ; 
and  them  kind  is  high  prized,  ye  knows." 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  but  where  is  she  ?     Let  me  see  her." 

"  She's  in  the  store  ; "  and,  rising,  he  led  the  way  to  the 
shanty. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  part  of  the  ground  where  the 
marksmen  were  stationed,  we  found  an  altercation  going  on 
between  Tom  and  a  young  planter.  It  appeared  that  the 
young  man  had  paid  for  a  shot,  and  insisted  on  his  body  ser- 
vant taking  his  place  in  the  lists.  To  that  Tom,  and  the  stout 
yeomen  who  had  entered  for  the  turkey,  objected,  on  account 
of  the  yellow  man's  station  and  complexion. 

The  young  gentleman  was  dressed  in  the  highest  style  of 
fashion,  and,  though  not  more  than  nineteen,  was  evidently  a 
"  blood  "  of  "  the  very  first  water."  The  body  servant  was  a 
good-looking  quadroon,  and  sported  an  enormous  diamond  pin 
and  a  heavy  gold  watch-chain.  In  his  sleek  beaver  hat,  and 
nicely-brushed  suit  of  black  broadcloth,  he  appeared  more  like 
a  gentleman  than  any  one  on  the  ground. 

As  we  approached,  Tom — every  pimple  on  his  red  face 
swelling  with  virtuous  indignation — was  delivering  himself  of 
the  following  harangue : 

"  We  doan't  put  ourselfs  on  a  futtin'  with  darkies,  Mr.  Gas- 
ton. We  doan't  keer  if  they  does  b'long  ter  kid-gloved  'risto- 
crats  like  ye  is  ;  they  karn't  come  in  har,  nohow !  Ye'd  better 
go  home.  Ye  orter  be  in  better  business  then  prowlin'  round 
shootin'  matches,  with  yer  scented,  bedevilled-up  buck  niggers. 
Go  home,  and  wash  the  scent  out  o'  yer  does.  Yer  d — d 
muskmelon"  (Tom's  word  for  musk)  ''makes  ye  smell  jest  like 
hurt  skunks ;  and  ye  ar  skunks,  clar  through  ter  the  innards. 
Whew  !     Clar  out,  I  tell  ye  !  " 


THE     NEGRO     TRADER.  67 

The  young  man's  face  reddened.  The  blood  of  the  chiv- 
alry was  rising,  and  he  replied  :  I 

"  Keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head,  you  thieving  scoun- 
drel. If  you  don't,  the  next  time  I  catch  you  trading  with  my 
nigs,  I'll  see  you  get  a  hundred  lashes ;  d— d  if  I  don't." 

Tom  bade  him  go  to  a  very  warm  latitude,  and  denied  trad- 
ing with  negroes. 

"  You  lie,  you  sneaking  whelp.  You've  got  the  marks  on 
your  back  now,  for  dealing  with  Pritchett's." 

Tom  returned  the  lie,  when  the  young  man's  face  grew  a 
trifle  redder,  and  his  whip  rising  in  the  air,  it  fell  across  Tom's 
nose  in  a  very  uncomfortable  manner — for  Tom.  The  liquor 
vender  reeled,  but,  recovering  himself  in  a  moment,  he  aimed  a 
heavy  blow  at  the  young  gentleman's  frontispiece.  That  "  par- 
lor ornament "  would  have  been  sadly  disfigured,  had  not  the 
darky  caught  the  stroke  on  his  left  arm,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment planted  what  the  "  profession"  call  a  "  wiper,"  just  behind 
Tom's  left  ear.  Tom's  private  dram  shop  went  down — M  caved 
in" — was  "laid  out  sprawlin';"  and  two  or  three  minutes 
elapsed  before  it  got  on  its  legs  again.  When  it  did,  it  frothed 
at  the  mouth  like  a  mug  of  ale  with  too  much  head  on  it. 

They  were  not  more  than  six  paces  apart  when  Tom  rose. 
Drawing  a  double-barrelled  pistol  from  his  pocket,  he  aimed  it 
at  the  planter.  The  latter  was  in  readiness  for  him.  His  six- 
shooter  was  level  with  Tom's  breast,  and  his  hand  on  the  trig- 
ger, when,  just  as  he  was  about  to  fire,  the  negro  trader  coolly 
stepped  before  him,  and  twisted  the  weapon  from  his  hand. 
Turning  to  Tom,  Larkin  then  said  :  "  Now,  you  clar  !  Make 
tracks,  or  I'll  lamm  ye  like  blamenation.  Be  off,  I  tell  ye !  " 
he  added,  as  Tom  showed  an  unwillingness  to  move.     "  A  sen- 


68  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

sible  man  like  ye  arn't  a  gwine  ter  waste  good  powder  on  sech 
a  muskrat  sort  of  a  thing  as  this  is,  is  ye?  Come,  clar  ! "  and 
placing  his  hand  on  Tom's  shoulder,  he  accelerated  his  rather 
slow  movements  toward  the  groggery.  Returning  then  to  the 
young  man,  he  said  : 

"And  now  you,  Mr.  Gustavus  Adolphus  Pocahontas  Pow- 
hatan Gaston,  s'pose  you  clar  out,  too  ?  " 

"  I  shall  go  when  I  please — not  before,"  said  Mr.  Gaston. 

"  You'll  please  mighty  sudden,  then,  /  reckon.  A  young 
man  o'  your  edication  should  be  'bout  better  business  than  git- 
tin'  inter  brawls  with  low  groggery  keepers,  and  'sultin'  decent 
white  folks  with  your  scented-up  niggers.  Yer  a  disgrace  ter 
yer  good  ole  father,  and  them  as  wus  afore  him.  "With  yer 
larnin'  and  money  ye  moight  be  doin'  suthin'  fur  them  as  is 
below  ye ;  but  yer  doin'  nothin'  but  hangin'  round  bar  rooms, 
gittin'  drunk,  playin'  cards,  drivin'  fast  hosses,  and  keepin'  nig- 
ger wimmin.  I'm  ashamed  o'  ye.  Yer  gwine  straight  ter  hell, 
ye  is ;  and  the  hull  country's  gwine  thar,  too,  'cause  it's  raisin' 
a  crap  of  jest  sech  idle,  no-account,  blusterin',  riproarin'  young 
fools  as  you  is.  Now,  go  home.  Make  tracks  ter  onst,  or  I'll 
hev  thet  d — d  nigger's  neck  o'  your'n  stretched  fur  strikin'  a 
white  man,  I  will !  Ye  knows  me,  and  I'll  do  it,  as  sure's  my 
name's  Jake  Larkin." 

The  young  planter  listened  rather  impatiently  to  this  ha- 
rangue, but  said  nothing.  "When  it  was  concluded,  he  told  his 
sen-ant  to  bring  up  the  horses ;  and  then,  turning  to  the  trader, 
said : 

"  "Well,  Right  Reverend  Mr.  Larkin,  you'll  please  to  make 
yourself  scarce  around  the  plantation  in  future.  If  you  come 
near  it,  just  remember  that  we  keep  dogs,  and  that  we  use  them 


TDE     XEGEO     TRADliE.  69 

for  chasing — niggers"  The  last  word  was  emphasized  in 
a  way  that  showed  he  classed  Larkin  with  the  wares  he 
dealt  in. 

"  Yer  father,  young  man,  is  a  honest  man,  and  a  gentleman. 
He  knows  I'm  one,  if  I  does  trade  in  niggers.  He'll  want  ter 
see  me  when  I  want  ter  come." 

The  negro  by  this  time  had  brought  up  the  horses.  "  Good 
evening,  Mr.  Larkin,"  said  young  Hopeful,  as  he  mounted  and 
rode  off. 

"  Good  evenin',"  replied  the  trader,  coolly,  but  respectfully. 

"  Good  evenin',  Mister  Larkin,"  said  the  gentleman's  gentle- 
man, as  he  also  mounted  to  ride  off.  The  emphasis  on  the 
"  Mister"  was  too  much  for  the  trader,  and,  making  one  spring 
toward  the  darky,  he  laid  his  stout  whip  across  his  face.  The 
scented  ebony  roared,  and  just  then  his  horse,  a  high-blooded 
animal,  reared,  and  threw  him.  When  he  had  gathered  him- 
self up,  several  warm  applications  of  a  thick  boot  were  made  to 
the  inexpressible  part  of  his  person,  and,  roaring  with  pain,  he 
made  off  at  a  gait  faster  than  that  of  his  runaway  horse. 

During  the  affray  the  occupants  of  the  ground  gathered 
around  the  belligerents  ;  but  as  soon  as  it  was  over,  they  went 
quietly  back  to  "old-sledge,"  "seven-up,"  " pitch-and-toss," 
"  chuck-a-luck,"  and  the  "  turkey  match." 

As  we  walked  toward  the  shanty,  the  trader  said  :  u  Thet 
feller's  a  fool.  What  a  chance  he's  throwin'  away  !  He  arn't 
of  no  more  use  than  a  rotten  coon  skin  or  a  spoilt  herrin',  he 
arn't.  All  on  our  young  bucks  is  jest  like  him.  The  coun- 
try's goin'  ter  the  devil,  shore  ; "  and,  with  this  choice  bit  of 
moralizing,  he  entered  the  cabin. 


CHAPTER   Y. 


A     SLATE     SALE. 


The  Squire  was  pacing  to  and  fro  in  the  upper  end  of  the 
room,  and  the  woman  and  children  were  seated  on  the  low 
bench  near  the  counter.  Phyllis  lifted  her  eyes  to  my  face  as 
I  entered,  with  a  hopeful,  inquiring  expression,  but  they  fell 
again  when  the  trader  said  :  "  Thet's  the  gal  fur  ye,  Mr. 
Kirke ;  the  most  perfectest  gal  in  seven  States  ;  good  at  ony- 
thing — washin',  ironin',  nussin',  breedin' ;  rig'larly  fotched  up  ; 
worth  her  weight  in  gold,  d — d  if  she  haint."  Turning  then 
to  Preston,  he  exclaimed : 

"  "Why,  Squire,  how  ar  ye  ?  " 

u  Very  well,"  replied  my  friend,  coolly. 

"  How's  times  ?  "  continued  the  trader. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Preston,  in  a  tone  which  showed  a  de- 
cided distaste  for  conversation. 

"  "Well,  glad  on  it.  I  heerd  ye  were  hard  put.  Glad  on 
it,  Squire.  n 

The  Squire  took  no  further  notice  of  him  ;  and,  turning  to 
his  property,  the  trader  said  : 

"  Stand  up,  gal,  and  let  me  show  what  yer  made  of. 
Doan't  look  so  down  in  the  mouth,  gal ;  this  gentleman's  got  a 
friend  thet'll  keep  ye  in  the  style  ye's  fotched  up  ter." 


A     SLAVE     SALS.  71 

Phyllis  rose,  and  made  a  strong  effort  to  appear  com- 
posed. 

"Now,  Mr.  Kirke,  luk  at  thet  rig,"  said  Larkin,  seizing  her 
rudely  by  the  arm,  and  turning  her  half  around  ;  "  straight's  a 
rail.  Luk  at  thet  ankle  and  fut — nimble's  a  squirrel ;  and 
healthy  I  why,  ye  couldn't  sicken  har  if  ye  put  har  ter  boss- 
petal  work." 

"  "Well,  never  mind ;  I  see  what  she  is.  "What's  your 
price  ?  " 

"  But  ye  haint  seed  har  yit !  She's  puny  like,  I  knows, 
but  she's  solid,  /  reckon  ;  thar  haint  a  pound  o'  loose  stuff  on 
har — it's  all  muscle.  See  thar- — jest  look  o'  thet,"  and  he 
stripped  the  sleeve  of  her  dress  to  the  elbow ;  "  thar's  a  arm 
fur  ye — whiter'n  buttermilk,  and  harder 'n  cheese.     Feel  on't." 

The  poor  woman  submitted  meekly  to  this  rough  handling 
of  her  person,  but  I  said,  impatiently : 

"  I  tell  you,  Larkin,  I'm  satisfied.  Name  your  price.  I've 
no  time  to  lose  :  the  stage  will  be  along  in  five  minutes.'* 

"  The  stage  !  Lord  bless  ye,  Mr.  Kirke,  it's  broke  down  ; 
'twon't  be  here  fur  an  hour,  I  knows.  Now  luk  o'  thet,"  he 
continued,  drawing  the  poor  woman's  thin  dress  tightly  across 
her  limbs,  while  he  proceeded,  despite  my  repeated  attempts  to 
interrupt  him,  with  his  disgusting  exhibitions,  which  it  would 
be  disgraceful  even  to  describe.  "  Ye  doan't  mind,  do  ye, 
gal  ? "  he  added,  chucking  her  under  the  chin  in  a  rude, 
familiar  way,  and  giving  a  brutal  laugh.  Phyllis  shrank  away 
from  him,  but  made  no  reply.  She  had  evidently  braced  her 
mind  to  the  ordeal,  and  was  prepared  to  bear  anything,  rather 
than  offend  him.  I  determined  to  stop  any  further  proceeding, 
and  said  to  him : 


*72  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  I  tell  you,  Larkin,  I'm  satisfied.  I  cannot  waste  my  time 
in  this  manner.     Let's  have  your  price. 

"  Time,  Mr.  Kirke  !  Why,  yer  time  arn't  worth  nothiu' 
jest  now.  The  stage  won't  be  'long  'fore  dark.  Ye  haint  seed 
half  on  har  yit.  I  doan't  want  ter  sell  ye  a  damaged  article. 
I  want  ter  show  ye  she's  sound's  a  nut — ye  won't  pay  my  price 
ef  I  doan't.  Look  a  thar,  now,"  and  with  a  quick,  dexterous 
movement,  he  tore  open  the  front  of  her  dress.     *     *     *     * 

The  poor  girl,  unable  to  use  her  hands,  bent  over  nearly 
double,  and  strained  the  children  to  her  breast  to  hide  her 
shame.  A  movement  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  made  me 
look  at  the  Squire.  With  his  jaws  set,  his  hands  clenched,  and 
his  face  on  fire,  he  was  striding  toward  the  trader.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  would  have  been  upon  him.  My  own  blood  boiled, 
but,  knowing  that  an  outbreak  would  be  fatal  to  our  purpose,  I 
planted  myself  firmly  in  his  way,  and'  said,  as  I  took  him  by 
the  arm,  and  held  him  back  by  main  force  : 

"  Be  quiet,  Preston  ;  this  is  my  affair." 

"Yes,  Squire,"  added  the  trader,  " ye'd  better  be  quiet. 
Ye'll  turn  trader  yerself,  yit.  If  things  is  true,  ye'll  hev  ter 
begin  on  yer  own  nigs,  mighty  sudden." 

"  If  I  am  brought  to  that,"  replied  the  Squire,  with  the 
calm  dignity  which  was  natural  to  him,  "  I  shall  treat  them 
like  human  beings — not  like  brutes." 

"  Ye'll  show  'em  off  the  best  how  ye  kin ;  let  ye  alone  fur 
thet.  I  know  yer  whole  parson  tribe  ;  thar  haint  nary  a  hon- 
est one  among  ye." 

Preston  turned  silently  away,  as  if  disdaining  to  waste 
words  on  such  a  subject ;   and  I  said  to  the  trader : 

"  Mr.  Larkin,  I've  told  you  I've  no  time  to  lose.  Name 
your  price  at  once,  or  I'll  not  buy  the  woman  at  all." 


A      SLAVE      SALE.  73 

"  Wall,  jest  as  ye  say,  Mr.  Kirke.     But  ye  see  she's  a;  rare 
'un— would  bring  two  thousand  in  Orleans,  sure's  a  gun." 

uPah*w!  you  know  better  than  that.  But  name  your 
price."  i 

"  What,  fur  the  lot,  or  the  'ooman  alone  ?  " 

"  Either  way.  I've  no  particular  use  for  the  children,  but 
I'll  buy  them,  if  cheap." 

"Oh  !  do  buy  us,"  cried  the  little  girl,  taking  hold  of  my 
coat ;   "  do  buy  us — please  do,  good  massa." 

"She*  up,  ye  young  whelp,"  said  the  trader,  raising  his 
whip.  The  little  thing  slunk  back  affrighted,  and  began  to 
sob,  but  said  no  more. 

"Wall,  Mr.  Kirke,  the  lot  cost  me  sixteen  fifty,  hard 
rocks ;  and  'twus  dirt  cheap,  'cause  the  'ooman  alone'll  bring 
more'n  thet     I  couldn't  hev  bought  har  fur  thet,  but  har  owner 

wus  hard  up.     Ye  see,  he's  Gineral  ,  down  ter  New- 

bern,  one  on  yer  reg'lar  'ristocrats,  the  raal  ole-fashioned  sort- 
keeps  big  plantation,   house  in  town  ;    fine  wines ;  fine  wim- 
men;    fast  hosses ;    and  goes  it  mighty  strong.      Well,  he's 
allers  a  trifle  under— ev'ry  year  'bout  two  thousand  short ;  and 
ev'ry  year  I  buy  a  couple  or  so  of  nigs  on  him  ter  make  it  up. 
Wall,  when  I  gits  'long  thar  t'other  day,  he  says  ter  me,  says 
he  :   «  Lark '  (he  allers  calls  me  Lark  ;  thet's  the  name  I  goes 
by  'mong  my  intimate  'quaintance.     He's  a  pertickerler  friend 
o'  mine,  ye  see ;  he  thinks  a  heap  o'  me,  he  does) ;  well,  says 
he,  « Lark,  thar's  Phylly ;  I  want  ye  ter  take  har.     She's  the 
likeliest  gal  in  the  world— good  ole  Virginny  blood,  father  one 
of  the  raal  ole  stock.     Ye  knows  she's  right — right  ev'ry  way ; 
prays  like  a  camp  meetin',  and  virtuous  ter  kill;    thar  ain't 
none  round  har  thet's  up  ter  har  at  thet ;  tried  ter  cum  round 
4 


74  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

liar  myself,  but  couldn't  git  nigher'n  a  rod — won't  hev  but  one 
man,  and'll  stick  ter  him  like  death ;  jest  the  sort  fur  one  o' 
them  New  Orleans  bloods  as  wants  a  gal  thet'll  be  true  ter 
'em.  Does  ye  take,  Lark?'  says  he.  '"Well,  I  does,'  says  I; 
1  and  I  knows  jest  the  feller  fur  har — one  o'  yer  raal  highflyers ; 
rich's  a  Jew — twenty  thousand  a  year ;  lives  like  a  prince ;  got 
one  or  two  on  'em  now ;  but  he  says  ter  me,  when  I  comes  off, 
'Lark,'  says  he,  'find  me  a  gal,  kinder  pale,  tidy,  hard's  a 
nut,  and  not  bigger'n  a  cotton  bale.'  'Well,'  says  I,  'I 
will ; '  and,  Gin'ral,  Phylly's  the  gal !  She'll  hev  good  times, 
live  like  a  queen,  hev  wines,  dresses,  hosses,  operas,  and  all 
them  sort  o'  things ;  ye  knows  them  ar  fellers  doan't  stand  fur 
trifles.'  'Yes,  I  knows,  Lark,'  says  the  Gin'ral;  'and  bein' 
it's  so,  ye  kin  take  har ;  but  I  wouldn't  sell  har  ter  ary  nother 
man  livin' — ef  I  would,  d — n  me.  Ye  kin  hev  har,  Lark,  but 
ye  must  take  the  young  'uns ;  she's  got  two,  ye  knows,  and  it 
hain't  Christian-like  ter  sell  'em  apart.'  kD — n  the  young 
'uns,  Gin'ral,'  says  I ;  'I  karn't  do  nary  a  thing  with  them, 
What '11  one  o'  them  young  bloods  want  o'  them?  They  goes 
in  fur  home  manufactures.'  'Yes,  I  knows,  Lark,'  says  he, 
'  but  ye  kin  sell  'em  off  thar ;  ony  planter'll  buy  'em ;  they'll 
pay  ter  raise.  They're  likely  little  gals,  ye  knows — hon- 
est born,  white  father,  and'll  make  han'some  wimmin — han'- 
somer'n  thar  mother,  and'll  sell  higher  when  they's  grow'd  up. 
Ye'd  better  take  'em  Lark.  ,  Ef  ye  doan't,  I'm  d— d  ef  I'll 
sell  ye  the  mother ;  fur,  ye  see,  I  must  have  the  whole  vally, 
now,  thet's  honest.'  'Wall,  Gin'ral,'  says  I,  'ye  allers  talks 
right  out,  thet's  what  I  likes  in  ye.  What's  the  price?' 
'  Wall,'  says  he,  '  bein'  it's  ye,  and  ye've  a  good  master  in  yer 
eye  fur  Phylly,   I'll  say  two  thousand  fur   the  lot — the  gal 


A     SLAVE     SALE.  iO 

alone'll  fetch  twenty-five  hun'red  down  ter  Orleans.'  '  Whew  I ' 
says  I,  '  Gin'ral,  ye've  been  a  takin'  suthin'.  (But  he  hechvt ; 
he  war  soberer  than  a  church  clock  ;  'twarn't  more'n  'lev'n, 
and  he's  never  drunk  'fore  evenin'.)  'Wall,' says  I,  '  karn't 
think  on  it,  nohow,  Gin'ral.'  Then  he  come  down  ter  eighteen ; 
but  I  counted  out  sixteen  fifty — good  rags  on  the  ole  State 
Bank — and  I'm  blamed  ef  he  didn't  take  it.  I'd  no  idee  he 
wud ;  but  debt,  Mr.  Kirke,  debt's  the  devil ;  but  it  helps  us, 
'case,  I  s'pose  (and  he  laughed  his  hardened,  brutal  laugh), 
we  does  the  devil's  own  work.  But  be  thet  how  it  may,  ef 
them  highflyin'  planters  didn't  run  inter  it,  and  hev  ter  pay  up, 
nigger  spee'latin'  wouldn't  be  wuth  follerin'.  Wall,  I  took  the 
nigs,  and  thar  they  is ;  and  bein'  it's  ye,  Mr.  Kirke,  and  ye're 
a  friend  on  the  ole  man,  ye  shill  hev  the  lot  fur  a  hun'red  and 
fifty  more — or  the  'ooman  alone  fur  fifteen  hun'red  ;  but  ary 
nother  white  man  couldn't  toch  'em  fur  less'n  two  thousand — 
ef  they  could,  d — n  me." 

The  stage  had  not  arrived,  and  I  had  submitted  to  this 
lengthy  harangue,  because  I  saw  I  was  more  sure  to  accom- 
plish the  purchase  by  indulging  the  humor  of  the  trader.  The 
suspense  was,  no  doubt,  agony  to  Phyllis,  and  Preston  mani- 
fested decided  impatience,  but  the  delay  seemed  unavoidable. 
It  was  difficult  for  the  latter  to  control  himself.  He  chafed 
like  a  chained  tiger.  At  first  he  paced  up  and  down  the  far- 
ther side  of  the  apartment,  then  sat  down,  then  rose  and  paced 
the  room  again,  and  then  again  sat  down,  every  now  and  then 
glaring  upon  Larkin  with  a  look  of  savage  ferocity  that  showed 
the  wild  beast  was  rising  in  him.  The  trader  once  in  a  while 
looked  toward  him  with  a  cool  unconcern  that  indicated  two 
things :  nerves  of  iron,  and  perfect  familiarity  with  such  dem- 
onstrations 


76  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Fearing  an  explosion,  I  at  last  stepped  up  to  the  Squire, 
and  said,  in  a  low  tone :  "  Let  me  beg  of  you  to  leave  the 
room  ;  do — you  may  spoil  all."  He  made  no  reply,  but  did 
as  I  requested. 

When  he  had  gone,  Larkin  remarked,  in  an  indifferent 
way,  "  The  Squire's  got  the  devil  in  him.  He's  some  when 
his  blood's  up — edged  tools,  dangerous  ter  handle ;  he  is — I 
knows  him.  I'd  ruther  hev  six  like  Tom  on  me,  ony  time, 
than  one  like  him.  But  he  karn't  skeer  me.  The  man  doan't 
breathe  thet  kin  turn  Jake  Larkin  a  hair." 

"  I  see  he's  excited,"  I  replied  ;  u  but  why  is  he  so  inter- 
ested in  this  woman  ?  " 

"Why?  She  was  fotched  up  'long  with  him — children 
together.  He  owned  har  till  he  got  in.  the  nineholes  one  day, 
and  sold  har  ter  the  Gin'ral.  I'd  bet  a  pile  the  young  'uns  ar 
his'n.  He  knows  har  as  he  do  the  psa'm  book.  Ha !  ha !  " 
and  he  chucked  Phyllis  again  under  the  chin,  as  he  asked, 
"Doan't  he,  gal?" 

She  shrank  away  from  him,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Doan't  be  squeamy,  gal ;  out  with  it ;  we'll  think  the 
more  on  ye  fur't.  Arn't  the  young  'uns  his'n?  Didn't  ye 
b'long  ter  the  Squire  till  he  got  so  d — d  pious  five  year  ago  ?  " 

"Yes,  master;  I  belonged  to  him.  Master  Robert  was 
allers  pious." 

"  Yes,  I  knows ;  he  wus  allers  preachin'  pious.  But  didn't 
ye  b'long  ter  him — ye  knows  what  I  means — till  he  got  so 
d — d  camp-meetin'  pious  ?  " 

"  Master  Robert  was  allers  camp-meetin'  pious,"  replied  the 
woman,  looking  down,  and  drawing  her  thin  shawl  more  closely 
over  her  open  bosom. 


A     SLAVE     SALE.  77 

"Wall,"  said  Larkin,  "ye  karn't  git  nothin'  out  o'  har;  but 
it's  so — shore  !  Ev'ry  'un  gays  so ;  and  what  ev'ry  'un  says, 
am't  inore'n  a  mile  from  the  truth.  Jest  look  o'  thet  little  'un. 
Doan't  ye  see  the  Squire's  eyes  and  forrerd  thar  ? "  and, 
taking  the  little  girl  roughly  by  the  arm,  he  turned  her  face 
toward  mine.  The  lower  part  of  her  features  were  like  her 
mother's ;  but  her  eyes,  hair,  and  forehead,  were  Preston's  ! 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  I  said  ;  "  but  you  spoke  of  two  little  girls , 
where  is  the  other  ?  " 

"  Wall,  ye  see,  I  bought  'em  both,  and  the  Gin'ral  guv 
me  a  bill  o'  sale  on  'em  ;  but  when  we  come  to  look  arter  the 
young  'un  in  the  mornin',  she  warn't  thar.  The  Gin'raPs 
'ooman — she's  a  'ooman  fur  me — a  whole  team ;  she  makes 
him  stan'  round,  /  reckon — wall,  she'd  a  likin'  fur  the  little 
'un,  and  she  swoore  she  shouldn't  be  sold.  She  told  me  ter  my 
face  she'd  packed  har  off  whar  I  couldn't  git  har,  nohow  ;  and 
she'd  raise  the  town,  and  hev  me  driv'  out,  ef  I  'tempted  it." 

"  What  did  you  do  then  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Wall,  ye  knows  the  Gin'ral's  a  honerubble  man;  so, 
when  he  seed  his  'ooman  wus  sot  thet  way,  he  throw'd  in  the 
yaller  boy — and  he's  wuth  a  hun'red  more'n  the  gal,  onv  day. 
His  mother  took  on  ter  kill,  'case  the  Gin'ral'd  sort  o'  prom- 
ised him  ter  har,  and  she'd  been  a  savin'  up  ter  buy  him.  But 
the  Gin'ral's  a  honerubble  man,  and  he  didn't  flinch  a  hair — not 
a  hair.  Thet's  the  sort  ter  deal  with,  I  say.  I  stuck  fur  the 
little  gal,  though — 'case,  ye  see,  I'd  taken  a  likin'  ter  har  my- 
self— she's  the  pootiest  little  thing  ye  ever  seed,  she  is;  but  the 
Gin'ral  he  said  'twarn't  no  use,  fur  his  'ooman  would  hev  har 
way ;  and  finarly  I  guv  in,  and  took  another  bill  o'  sale.  And 
what  d'ye  think !     I'd  no  more'n  got  it  inter  my  pocket,  'fore 


78  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

the  Gin'ral's  'ooman  pulled  out  a  gold  watch,  two  or  three  dia- 
mond pins,  a  ring  or  two,  and  some  wimmin  fixin's,  and  says 
she,  '  See  thar,  Mister  Larkin  ;  them's  what  I  got  fur  the  little 
gal.  Pve  sold  har — sold  har  this  mornin',  and  guv  the  bill  o' 
sale ;  and  ef  the  Gin'ral  doan't  sartify  it,  he  woan't  git  no 
peace,  I  reckon.  I  wus  bound  ter  see  one  on  'em  done  right 
by,  I  wus.'  "Wall,  I  told  har  she  wus  ahead  o'  my  time,  and  I 
put  out  kinder  sudden,  I  did.  A  'ooman's  the  devil;  I'd 
ruther  trade  with  twenty  men  nor  one  'ooman,  I  swar." 

When  he  spoke  of  her  child,  the  slave  woman  burst  into 
tears.  Her  emotion  drowned  the  curiosity  which  had  made  me 
a  patient  listener  to  the  trader's  story,  and  recalled  me  to  the 
business  in  hand.  With  some  twinges  of  conscience  for  hav- 
ing kept  the  wretched  girl  so  long  on  the  rack,  I  said  to  him, 
"  Well,  Larkin,  let's  get  through  with  this.  What  is  your 
lowest  price  for  the  lot  ?  " 

"P'raps  you'd  as  lief  throw  out  the  boy?  I'd  take  off 
three  hun'red  fur  him." 

u  Oh  !  doan't  ye  leab  Ally,  massa  !  buy  Ally  too,  massa  ! 
oh !  do,  good  massa ! "  he  cried,  with  an  expression  of  keen 
agony  such  as  I  had  never  till  then  seen  in  one  so  young.  He 
was  a  "  likely "  little  fellow,  with  a  round,  good-natured  face, 
and  a  bright,  intelligent  eye  ;  and,  though  I  presumed  Preston 
felt  no  particular  interest  in  him,  I  thought  of  his  mother,  de- 
priving herself  of  sleep  and  rest  to  save  up  the  price  of  her 
child,  and  I  said  :  "  No,  I  have  taken  a  liking  to  him ;  I'll  take 
the  whole,  or  none." 

"Well,  then,  seventeen  fifty — not  a  dime  less.  Thet's 
only  a  hun'red  profit." 

"  Will  a  hundred  profit  satisfy  you  ?  " 


A      SLAVE     SALE.  79 

"  Yes,  bein'  as  ye's  a  friend  o'  the  ole  man,  and  I  hain't 
had  'em  only  four  days." 

I  sat  down  on  the  bench  beside  the  little  girl,  and  taking 
her  small  hand  in  mine,  and  playing  with  her  fingers  in  a  care- 
less way,  said  :  "  Well,  I  will  give  you  a  hundred  profit ;  but, 
Larkin,"  and  I  looked  him  directly  in  the  eye,  and  smiled, 
"  you  can't  intend  to  come  the  Yankee  over  me  !  I  am  one 
of  them  myself  you  know,  and  understand  such  things.  These 
people  cost  you  twelve  hundred — not  a  dime  more." 

"  The  h— 11  they  did  !  P'raps  ye  meanler  say  I  lie  ?  "  he 
replied,  in  an  excited  tone,  his  face  reddening  with  anger. 

"  No,  I  don't.  I  merely  state  a  fact,  and  you  know  it.  So 
keep  cool." 

"It's  a  d — d  lie,  sir;  I  doan't  keer  who  says  it,"  he  ex- 
claimed, now  really  excited. 

M  Come,  come,  my  fine  fellow,"  I  said,  rising,  and  facing 
him  ;  "  skip  the  hard  words,  and  don't  get  up  too  much  steam  ; 
it  might  damage  you,  or  your  friends." 

II  What  d'ye  mean?  Speak  out,  Mr.  Kirke.  Ef  ye  doan't 
want  ter  buy  'em,  say  so,  and  hev  done  with  it."  This  was 
said  in  a  more  moderate  tone.  He  had  evidently  taken  my 
meaning,  and  feared  he  had  gone  too  far. 

"  I  mean  simply  this :  This  woman  and  the  children  cost 
you  twrelve  hundred  dollars  four  days  ago.  Preston  wants 
them — must  have  them — and  he  will  give  thirteen  hundred  for 
them,  and  pay  you  in  a  year,  with  interest ;  that's  all." 

"  Wall,  come  now,  Mr.  Kirke,  thet's  liberal,  arn't  it ! 
S'pose  I  doan't  take  it,  what  then  ?  " 

"Then  Roye,  Struthers  &  Co.  will  stop  your  supplies, 
or  Fll  stop  theirs — that's  'sartin,'"  and  I  laughed  good- 
humoredly  as  I  said  it. 


80  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

M  "Wall,  ye're  one  on  'em,  Mr.  Kirke,  thet's  a  fact ; "  and 
then  he  added,  seriously,  "  but  ye  karn't  mean  ter  saddle  my 
doin's  onter  them  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  will;  and  tell  them  they  have  you  to  thank  for  it." 
•  "  What " — and  he  struck  his  forehead  with  his  hand — 
"  what  a  dangnation  fool  I  wus  ter  tell  ye  'bout  them  !  " 

"  Of  course  you  were  ;  and  a  greater  one  to  say  you  paid 
sixteen  fifty  for  the  property.  I'd  have  given  fifteen  hundred 
for  them,  if  you  had  told  the  truth.  But  come,  what  do  you 
say  ;  are  they  Preston's,  or  not  ?  " 

"  No,  I  karn't  do  it ;  karn't  take  Preston's  note — 'tain't 
wuth  a  hill  o'  beans.     Give  me  the  money,  and  it's  a  trade." 

11  Preston  is  cramped,  and  cannot  pay  the  money  now.  I'll 
give  you  my  note,  if  you  prefer  it." 

"  Payable  in  York,  interest  and  exchange  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

""Well,  it's  done.  And  now,  d — n  the  nigs.  I'll  never 
buy  ary  nother  good-lookin'  'un  as  long's  I  live." 

"  I  hope  you  won't,"  1  replied,  laughing. 

He  then  produced  a  blank  note  and  a  bill  of  sale,  and  draw- 
ing from  his  pocket  a  pen  and  a  small  ink  bottle,  said  to  me : 
"  Thar,  Mr.  Kirke,  ye  fill  up  the  note,  and  I'll  make  out  the 
bill  o'  sale.     I'm  handy  at  sech  doin's." 

"  Give  me  the  key  of  these  bracelets  first.  Make  out  the 
bill  to  Preston — Robert  Preston,  of  Jones  County." 

He  handed  me  the  key,  and  I  unlocked  the  shackles. 
"Now,  Phyllis,"  I  said,  "it  is  over.  Go  and  tell  Master 
Robert." 

She  rose,  threw  her  arms  wildly  above  her  head,  and,  stag- 
gering weakly  forward,  without  saying  a  word,  left  the  cabin. 


A     SLAVE     SALE.  81 

Yelping  and  leaping  with  joy,  the  yellow  boy  followed  her; 
but  the  little  girl  came  to  me,  and,  looking  up  timidly  in  my 
bee.  said  :  "  Oh  !  rnu^a,  Rosey  so  glad  'ou  got  mammy — 
.-  so  glad.'  Rosey  lub  'ou,  massa — Rosey  lub  'ou  a  heap." 
I  thought  of  a  little  girl  I  had  left  at  home,  and,  with  a  sudden 
impulse,  lifted  the  child  from  the  floor  and  kissed  her.  She 
put  her  small  arms  about  my  neck,  laid  her  soft  cheek  against 
mine,  and  burst  into  tears. 

I  filled  out  the  note,  and  gave  it  to  the  trader ;  and,  with 
the  bill  of  sale  in  my  hand,  was  about  to  go  in  search  of  Pres- 
ton, when  he  and  Phyllis  entered  the  cabin.  I  handed  him  the 
document,  and,  glancing  over  it,  he  placed  it  in  his  pocket 
book. 

u  Now,  Larkin,"  1  said,  "this  is  a  wretched  business. 
Give  it  up ;  there's  too  much  of  the  man  in  you  for  this  sort 
of  thing." 

M  Wall,  p'raps  ye're  right,  Mr.  Kirke ;  but  I'm  in  it,  and  I 
karn't  git  out.  But  it  seems  ter  me  'tain't  no  wuss  dealin'  in 
'em,  than  ownin'  'em." 

"  I  don't  know.  Is  it  not  a  little  worse  on  the  man  him- 
self? Does  it  not  sort  of  harden  you — blunt  your  better  feel- 
ings— to  be  always  buying  and  selling  people  that  do  not  want 
to  be  bought  and  sold  ?  " 

14  "Wall,  p'raps  it  do  ;  it's  a  cussed  business,  onyhow.  But 
thar's  my  hand,  Mr.  Kirke.  Ye're  a  gintleman,  I  swar,  ef  ye 
hev  come  it  over  me.  Ha  !  ha  !  How  slick  you  done  it !  I 
likes  ye  the  better  fur  it ;  and  ef  Jake  Larkin  kin  ever  do  ye  a 
good  turn,  he'll  do  it.  I  allers  takes  ter  a  man  thet's  smarter 
nor  I  ar,  I  does;"  and  he  gave  my  hand  another  powerful 
shake. 


82  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  I  thank  you,  Larkin  ;  and  if  I  can  ever  serve  you,  it  will 
give  me  great  pleasure  to  do  so." 

"  I  doan't  doubt  it,  Mr.  Kirke,  I  doan't ;  and  I'll  call  on 
ye,  shore,  ef  ye  kin  ever  do  me  ony  good.  Good-by ;  ye 
want  ter  be  with  the  Squire ;  good-by ; "  and  he  left  the 
cabin. 

"Which  was  the  worse — that  coarse,  hardened  man,  or  the 
institution  which  had  made  him  what  he  was  ? 

Many  years  afterward  the  trader  and  I  met  again ;  and 
then  he  kept  Ins  word. 


CHAPTEK   YI 


ON    THE    ROAD. 


It  was  nine  o'clock  at  night,  when  the  stage  halted  be- 
fore the  door  of  that  purgatory  for  Southern  pilgrims,  the 
"  Washington  House,"  Newbern.  As  we  dismounted  from 
the  box,  Preston  said  to  me : 

M  You  order  supper  and  a  room,  while  I  attend  to  Phyllis 
and  the  children.     I'll  join  you  presently." 

Seeing  that  our  luggage  was  safely  deposited  on  the 
piazza,  I  entered  the  hotel  in  quest  of  the  landlord.  The 
"  office "  was  a  long,  low,  dingy  apartment,  with  tobacco- 
stained  floor,  blackened  ceiling,  and  greasy,  brown  walls, 
ornamented  here  and  there  with  advertisements  of  runaway 
slaves,  auction  notices  of  "  mules,  negroes,  and  other  prop- 
erty," a  few  dusty  maps,  and  a  number  of  unframed  wood-cuts 
of  prominent  political  characters.  Among  the  latter,  Calhoun, 
in  bristling  hair,  cadaverous  face,  and  high  shirt  collar,  looked 
"  the  unkindest  cut  of  all."  Behind  the  bar,  which  extended 
across  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  was  drawn  up  a  whole  regi- 
ment of  glass  decanters,  and  stout  black  bottles,  full  of  spirit, 
and  ready  for  active  service.  A  generous  wood  fire  roared  and 
crackled  on  a  broad  hearthstone,  and  in  a  semicircle  around  it, 
in   every  conceivable   attitude,   were   gathered   about   twenty 


84  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

planters'  sons,  village  shopkeepers,  turpentine  farmers,  itiner- 
ant horse  dealers,  and  cattle  drovers.  Some  had  their  heels  a 
trifle  higher  than  their  heads,  some  were  seated  on  the  knees 
of  others,  some  were  lounging  on  the  arms  of  chairs,  and  some 
were  stretched  at  full  length  on  a  pile  of  trunks  near  by ;  but 
all  were  too  much  engaged  in  smoking,  expectorating,  and  lis- 
tening to  a  horse-trading  narrative,  which  one  of  their  number 
was  relating,  to  heed  my  entrance. 

"Wall,  ye  see,"  said  the  story  teller,  "Dick  come  the  pos- 
sum over  him — made  b'lieve  he  wus  drunk,  though  he  warn't, 
no  more'n  I  ar ;  but  he  tuk  durned  good  keer  ter  see  the  ole 
man  get  well  slewed,  he  did.  "Wall,  wen  the  ole  feller  wus 
pooty  well  primed,  Dick  stuck  his  arm  inter  his'n,  toted  him 
off  ter  the  stable,  and  fotched  out  a  ole,  spavin'd,  wind-galled, 
used-up,  broken-down  critter,  thet  couldn't  gwo  a  rod,  'cept  ye 
got  another  hoss  to  haul  him  ;  and  says  he  :  '  See  thar  !  thars 
a  perfect  paragone  o'  hoss-flesh ;  a  raal  Arab ;  nimble's  a 
cricket ;  sunder'n  a  nut ;  gentler'n  a  cooin'  dove,  and  faster'n  a 
tornado  !  I  doan't  sell  'im  fur  nary  fault,  and  ye  couldn't  buy 
'im  fur  no  price,  ef  I  warn't  hard  put.  Come,  now,  what  d'ye 
say  ?  I'll  put  'im  ter  ye  fur  one  fifty,  an'  its  less'n  he  cost,  it 
ar  ! '  Wall,  the  ole  man  tuk — swollored  the  critter  whole — 
tuk  him  down  without  greasin',  he  did — ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  repeated  the  listening  crowd,  and  "  Yah  ! 
yah ! "  echoed  three  or  four  well-dressed  darkies,  who  were 
standing  near  the  doorway.  u  Sarved  'im  right ;  he'm  a  mean 
ole  cuss,  he  am,"  chimed  in  one  of  the  latter  gentry  (who,  I 
saw,  was  the  perfumed  ebony  who  figured  at  the  turkey  match), 
as  he  added  another  guffaw,  and,  swaying  his  body  back  and 
forth,  brought  his  hands  down  on  his  thighs  with  a  concussion 


ONTUEliOAD.  85 

which  sent  a  thick  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke,  of  his  own  manu- 
facture, circling  to  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

When  the  merriment  had  somewhat  subsided,  I  stepped 
toward  the  assemblage,  and  inquired  if  the  landlord  were  pres- 
ent. There  was  no  reply  for  a  few  moments ;  then  one  of  the 
embryo  planters,  speaking  to  a  showily-dressed  young  man 
near  him,  said  : 

M  Get  up,  and  'tend  to  the  stranger.  You  arn't  fit  to  tote 
victuals  to  a  nigger." 

The  young  man  rose  very  deliberately,  and  said  : 

"  Want  ter  see  the  keeper,  do  ye  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  j  I  want  a  room,  and  supper  for  two,  at  onc-e." 

il  Room,  and  supper  fur  two  ?  " 

"  Yes;  a  roqm  with  a  fire  and  two  beds." 

"  "Whar  d'ye  come  from  ?  " 

"  From  Goldsboro' ;  just  in  by  the  stage." 

"  Oh  !  stage's  in,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  the  stage  is  in.  You'll  oblige  me  by  attending 
to  us  at  once ;  we  are  hungry  and  tired." 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  without  speaking,  then 
leisurely  w-alked  out  through  the  front  door.  Two  or  three  of 
the  loungers  followed,  but  the  young  gentleman  who  had  first 
spoken,  rose,  and  politely  tendered  me  a  seat.  Thanking  him, 
I  took  the  chair  vacated  by  the  bartender,  and  proceeded  to 
warm  my  hands  and  limbs,  wThich  were  thoroughly  chilled  by 
the  long  ride  in  the  cold  air. 

"  Cold,  riding  after  nightfall,  sir,"  said  the  young  man,  who 
I  now  observed  was  the  Mr.  Gaston  whom  the  trader  had  so 
unceremoniously  ejected  from  the  shooting  ground. 

u  Yes,  sir  ;  it  is  cold  riding  on  the  box." 


80  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

"  And  our  rattle-down  coaches  are  so  mighty  slow.  You 
don't  have  such  fixin's  at  the  North." 

"  No,  sir ;  but  why  do  you  suppose  I'm  from  the  North  ? 
I've  passed  for  a  Southerner  to-day." 

"  Oh !  I  know  you  Yankees  all  to  pieces  ;  I've  lived  among 
you." 

"  At  college,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  at  Harvard." 

"  You  graduated  early." 

11  No,  I  didn't  graduate,  I  left— left  for  my  health.  Ha ! 
ha ! "  and  he  broke  into  a  merry  fit  of  laughter,  in  which  sev- 
eral of  his  companions  joined. 

"  Taken  with  sudden  illness,  as  you  were  at  the  turkey 
match,  to-day  ?  "  I  inquired  good-humoredly,  and  in  a  tone  that 
could  not  give  offence. 

"  Yes ;  the  same  disease,  I  swear.     Ha  !  ha  ! " 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  echoed  his  companions. 

u  The  stranger's  inter  ye,  Gus — inter  ye  a  feet !  Come,  ye 
must  treat,"  shouted  the  teller  of  the  horse  story. 

This  last  individual  was  tall,  rawboned,  and  squarely  built, 
with  broad,  heavy  features,  and  dull,  cold,  snake-like  eyes. 
His  black,  unkempt  hair,  and  long,  wiry  beard,  fell  round  his 
face  like  tow  round  a  mop  handle ;  and  his  coarse  linsey 
clothes,  patched  in  many  places,  and  smeared  with  tar  and 
tobacco  juice,  fitted  him  as  they  might  have  fitted  a  prolonged 
pair  of  tongs.  The  legs  of  his  pantaloons  were  thrust  inside 
his  boots,  and  he  wore  a  fuzzy  woollen  hat  with  battered  crown 
and  broad  flapping  brim.  He  looked  the  very  picture  of  an 
ex-overseer  under  a  cloud,  or  an  itinerant  sporting  man,  anx- 
ious for  something  to  turn  up. 


ON     TIIK      ROAD.  87 

I  declined  the  proffered  drink,  but  the  company  rose  and 
approached  the  counter,  while  the  young  planter  bade  the  bar- 
tender, who  had  just  reentered,  u  trot  out  the  consolation." 

"  Down  with  the  pewter,  then,  Mr.  Gaston,"  said  the  liquor 
vender.     "  No  pay,  no  drinks,  in  this  yere  shanty." 

The  young  man  tossed  him  a  half  eagle.  His  companions 
proceeded  to  imbibe  a  variety  of  compounds,  while  he  poured 
out  nearly  a  glass  full  of  raw  whiskey,  and  drank  it  down  at  a 
swallow.  As  he  replaced  the  glass  on  the  counter,  a  slatternly 
negro  woman  thrust  her  head  in  at  the  doorway,  saying  : 

"  Dar's  a  'ooraan  heah — a  wite  'ooman,  dat  am  'ticler 
anxyus  fur  de  honor  ob  Mister  Mulock's  'quaintance.  She'm 
in  de  sittin'  room'." 

"  Thar's  a  call  for  you,  Bony,"  said  the  young  planter  to 
the  story  teller ;  M  some  young  woman  with  designs  on  your 
landed  possessions — ha  !  ha  !  " 

Without  replying,  the  other  followed  the  serving  woman 
from  'the  bar  room.  He  was  the  absconding  polygamist  for 
whom  the  tobacco-chewing  female  had  ventured  all  the  way 
from  Chalk-Level. 

"  Is  supper  ready,  sir  ?  "  I  asked  of  the  bartender. 

"  Supper  ? — I  reckon  so.  Ye'd  better  go  and  see,"  was 
the  civil  reply. 

"  Where's  the  dining  room  ?  " 

"  Over  that — 'tother  side  the  hall." 

Passing  out  of  the  room,  I  met  Preston,  and  we  proceeded 
together  to  the  supper  table.  "When  we  were  seated,  I  re- 
marked : 

"  By  the  way,  I  have  just  seen  the  husband  of  our  stage 
coach  acquaintance.     He's  a  rum-looking  customer." 


88  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  he  has  taken  to  drinking  again.  The 
whipping,  and  the  loss  of  Phylly,  have  probably  worked  on 
him." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  is  Phylly's  husband  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  didn't  I  tell  you  ?  » 

"  No.  Two  wives  under  one  roof!  "Well,  that's  more 
than  most  white  men  can  afford." 

11  That's  a  fact.  It's  an  awkward  business ;  what  had  bet- 
ter be  done  ?  " 

"  Done  ?  "Why,  let  him  go.  You'll  be  well  rid  of  him. 
He's  a  worthless  fellow,  or  nature  doesn't  write  English.  I 
read  '  scoundrel '  all  over  his  face." 

"He  has  a  bad  nature;  but  Phylly's  influence  on  him  is 
good,  and  she  loves  him." 

"  Loves  him  !     "Well,  there's  no  accounting  for  tastes." 

"  That's  true,"  replied  the  Squire;  "but  we  all  love  those 
to  whom  we  do  good.  She  married  Mulock  after  nursing  him 
through  a  long  illness,  and  has  tamed  him,  though  it*  was 
taming  a  wolf." 

"We  soon  left  the  table.  Preston  went  into  the  sitting 
room,  while  I  resumed  my  seat  by  the  bar-room  fire. 

I  had  nearly  finished  my  evening  cigar,  when  Preston  came 
into  the  office.  Shaking  hands  with  young  Gaston  and  a  num- 
ber of  the  others,  who  all  greeted  him  with  marked  respect,  he 
said  to  me : 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  Mulock's  wife  will  let  him  off,  if  I 
pay  her  a  hundred  dollars." 

II  Pay  her  a  hundred  dollars  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

11  Yes  ;  she'll  release  him  to  Phyllis  for  that — give  a  paper 
to  that  effect.     What  would  you  do  ?  " 


ON     THE     ROAD.  89 

The  idea  was  so  ludicrous,  that,  in  spite  of  the  Squire's 
serious  manner,  I  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  Between  the 
mirthful  explosions  I  managed  to  say  : 

11  Pardon  me,  Preston  ;  but  I  never  before  heard  of  selling 
a  husband — at  so  low  a  price.  Ha !  ha  !  Do  not  buy  him  ; 
he  isn't  worth  the  money."  Then,  seeing  that  he  appeared 
hurt,  J  added  :   "  What  does  Phyllis  say  ?  " 

"I  haven't  told  her.  She'll  feel  badly  to  have  him  go; 
but  it's  not  right  for  me  to  pay  the  money.  I  should  pay  my 
debts  first." 

Mr.  Gaston,  whose  attention  had  been  attracted  to  our  con- 
versation by  my  rather  boisterous  merriment,  now  said,  making 
a  strong  effort  to  appear  serious  : 

"  Excuse  me,  Squire ;  but  what  is  it  ?  Has  Mulock  two 
wives  ;  and  does  one  offer  to  sell  out  for  a  hundred  dollars  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Preston,  in  a  tone  which  showed  a  decided 
disinclination  to  conversation. 

<k  Buy  him,  then,  Squire ;  I'll  give  you  twenty-five  dollars 
for  the  bargain,  on  the  spot — I  will,  I  swear  ; "  and,  unable  to 
contain  himself  longer,  he  burst  into  an  uproarious  fit  of  merri- 
ment, in  which  the  by-sitters  joined. 

Preston's  face  darkened,  and,  in  a  grave  voice,  he  said : 

"  Young  man,  you  forget  yourself.  I  am  sorry  to  see  you 
so  wanting  in  respect  to  others,  and — yourself." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Preston,"  replied  Gaston,  in  an 
apologetic  tone;   "I  meant  no  offence,  sir — upon  my  soul,  I  did 

not.      If  Mulock  is  for  sale  for  a "    here   his  risibilities 

again  gave  way — "  for  a  hundred  dollars,  I'll  buy  him,  for  it's 
cheap  ;  I  swear  it's  cheap,  seeing  he's  a  white  man." 

Preston,  by  this  time  really  angered,  was  about  to  make  a 
harsh  reply,  when  I  interrupted  him : 


90  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

"Never  mind,  my  friend;  let  Mr  Gaston  buy  him — he  can 
afford  it.  Do  it,  Gaston ;  it  will  be  both  a  capital  joke  and 
a  good  action  ;  do  it  at  once." 

The  glass  of  raw  whiskey  had  somewhat  "  elevated "  the 
young  planter,  and  my  conscience  demurred  a  little  at  the 
advice  I  gave  him ;  but  I  recovered  my  usual  self-complacency 
on  reflecting  that  he  would  undoubtedly  put  the  money  to  a 
much  worse  use. 

Saying  "  D — d  if  I  won't,"  Gaston  drew  forth  his  purse, 
and  counted  out  a  number  of  half  eagles.  Finding  he  had  not 
enough,  he  turned  to  another  young  planter,  and  said : 

"  Here,  Bob,  I'm  short ;  lend  me  fifty  dollars." 

"  Bob  "  produced  his  wallet,  and,  without  counting  them, 
handed  him  a  roll  of  bills. 

"  Now,  stranger,  come  along ;  I  want  you  to  draw  up 
the  papers,  and  witness  the  trade — ha  !  ha  !  Is  she  in  the  par- 
lor, Squire  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Preston,  taking  the  seat  I  had  vacated. 

The  young  man  put  his  arm  into  mine,  and  we  proceeded 
to  the  "  sitting  room." 

Mulock  was  seated  before  the  fire,  gazing  intently  at  the 
blaze.  His  wife  sat  opposite,  speaking  earnestly  to  him. 
Every  now  and  then  she  wetted  a  short  piece  of  wood  with 
saliva,  and,  dipping  it  into  a  snuff  bottle,  mopped  her  teeth  and 
gums  with  the  savory  powder.  She  was — as  her  husband 
might  have  said — a  perfect  "  paragone "  of  "  poor  white " 
womanhood,  with  all  the  accomplishments  of  her  class — smok- 
ing, chewing,  and  snuff  dipping. 

As  we  approached,  she  lifted  her  eyes,  and  Gaston  said,  to 
her* 


OX     THE      ROAD.  91 

u  Are  you  the  lady  who  has  a  man  for  sale — a  likely  white 
man  ?  " 

"  Wall,  stranger,  I  reckon  I'm  the  'ooman.  Thet  ar  feller's 
my  husband,  an'  he  karn't  git  off  'cept  I  git  a  hundred  dollars." 

"  Will  you  give  a  bill  of  sale,  releasing  all  your  right,  title, 
and  interest  in  him  to  me,  if  I  pay  you  a  hundred  dollars  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  wull ;  ter  ye,  or  ter  onybody." 

"  Wall,  now,"  continued  Gaston,  imitating  her  tone,  "  karn't 
ye  take  a  trifle  less'n  thet — eighty,  or  so  ?  " 

u  No,  stranger  ;  nary  dime  under  thet.  I'm  gol-durned  ef 
I  does." 

"  Well,  Mulock,  what  do  you  say  ?  Are  you  willing  to  be 
sold?" 

"  I  hain't  willin'  ter  be  laff'd  at  by  ye,  nor  nobody  else," 
replied  Mulock,  rising,  and  turning  fiercely  on  the  planter. 
"  I'll  larrup  the  d — d  'ooman  onyhow,  and  ye,  too,  ef  ye  say 
much  more." 

"  Come,  Mulock,"  said  the  young  man,  coolly,  but  firmly, 
"  be  civil,  or  I'll  let  daylight  through  you  before  you're  a  min- 
ute older.  I'm  disposed  to  do  you  a  good  turn,  but  you  must 
be  civil,  by ." 

"  Wall,  do  as  ye  likes,  Gus  ;  onything'll  suit  me,"  replied 
Mulock,  resuming  his  previous  position. 

"  But,  d — n  you,  if  I  spend  a  hundred  on  you,  you  must  go 
to  work  like  a  man,  and  try  to  pay  it.  I  wouldn't  do  it,  any- 
how, if  it  wam't  for  Phylly." 

"  But  Phylly's  gone,"  said  Mulock,  in  a  dejected  tone  ; 
"  gone — toted  off  by  thet  d — d  trader.  If  I  hadn't  a  ben  in 
the  cussed  jug,  I'd  a  killed  him." 

"  No,  she  isn't  gone  ;  she's  here — Preston's  bought  her." 


92  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Mulock  sprang  to  his  feet ;  his  dull,  cold  eye  lighted,  and, 
seizing  the  young  man  by  the  arm,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Doan't  ye  lie  ter  me,  Gus  ;  is  she  yere  ?  " 

"  Yes,  so  Bob  sa}rs ;  lie  saw  her  get  out  of  the  stage." 

Mulock  made  no  reply,  but  strode  toward  the  door.  Gas- 
ton said  quickly : 

u  Hold  on,  Bony ;  don't  vamose  just  yet.  D — d  if  I'll 
help  you  out  of  tins,  if  you  don't  promise  to  work  like  an  hon- 
est fellow  to  pay  me." 

"  I  will,  Gus  ;  I'll  leave  off  drinkin'  ter  onst ;  I'll  work  day 
and  night,  I  will." 

"  Well,  my  rustic  beauty,  are  you  ready  to  sign  a  bill  of 
sale?" 

"  Yas ;  but  I  reckon,  bein'  as  ye  set  so  high  on  Bony,  ye 
kin  go  a  trifle  more'n  thet — jest  the  'spenses  down  yere?" 

"  Not  another  red,"  said  Gaston. 

"  Wall,  he  ain't  of  no  account,  nohow ;  I  reckon  he  ain't 
wuth  no  more.     Count  out  th'  pewter." 

I  procured  writing  materials  from  the  bar  room,  and  in  a 
few  moments  drew  up  a  paper,  by  which,  in  consideration  of 
one  hundred  dollars  to  her  in  hand  that  day  paid,  Jane  Mulock, 
of  Chalk-Level,  in  the  county  of  Harnet,  and  State  of  North 
Carolina,  did  sell,  assign,  transfer,  make  over,  convey,  and  for- 
ever quit  claim  unto  Phyllis  Preston,  otherwise  known  as 
Phyllis  Mulock,  of  the  town  of  Newbern,  in  the  county  of 
Craven,  and  State  aforesaid,  all  her  right,  title,  and  interest  in 
and  to  the  body,  soul,  wearing  apparel,  and  other  possessions, 
of  one  Napoleon  Bonaparte  Mulock,  whom  the  said  Jane 
charged  with  being  her  husband ;  and  also  all  claims  or  de- 
mands she  had  on  him  for  a  support,  she  binding  herself  never 


ON     THE     EOAD.  93 

to  institute  any  suit  or  suits  against  him  in  any  court  of  the 
State  of  North  Carolina,  or  of  any  other  State,  or  of  the 
United  States,  for  the  crime  of  bigamy,  or  for  any  other  crime, 
misdemeanor,  or  abomination  committed  against  herself  at  any 
time  prior  to  the  date  of  said  instrument.  In  testimony 
whereof,  she,  the  said  Jane  Mulock,  did  sign  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  and  affix  her  seal  to  a  half  sheet  of  dirty  paper,  whereto 
Gustavus  A.  Gaston,  and  the  writer  hereof,  were  witnesses. 

Both  Mulock  and  his  wife  thought  the  instrument  a  valid 
one.  He  again  took  Phyllis  to  his  bosom,  and  Jane,  I  have 
been  told,  married  another  husband.  In  view  of  the  latter 
fact,  I  have  never  been  able  to  wholly  satisfy  my  conscience 
for  the  part  I  took  in  the  transaction. 


CHAPTER  YIL 


A       SLAVE       MOTHER. 


"While  we  were  at  breakfast  on  the  following  morning, 
Preston  said  to  me  : 

11 1  think  I  had  better  leave  Phylly  and  Rosey  here  till  I 
can  consult  with  my  wife.  We  have  house  servants  enough, 
and  Phylly  can't  work  in  the  field.  It  may  be  advisable  to 
have  her  remain  in  Newbern." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  with  the  yellow  boy  ?  " 

"  Oh !  take  him  with  us.  There's  always  something  the 
little  fellows  can  do.     We'll  call  at  his  mother's,  and  get  him." 

We  decided  to  set  out  for  the  plantation  at  once,  and  Pres- 
ton ordered  a  livery  wagon  to  be  got  in  readiness.  While  we 
were  waiting  for  it,  I  walked  out  upon  the  piazza.  I  had  not 
been  there  long,  before  "young  Joe" — Preston's  only  son — 
rode  up  to  the  hotel.  He  was  a  manly  lad,  about  twelve  years 
of  age,  and  in  form,  features,  and  manners,  a  miniature  edition 
of  his  father.  He  had  grown  amazingly  since  at  my  house, 
two  years  before,  and  I  did  not  at  once  recognize  him ;  but  as 
he  caught  sight  of  me,  he  shouted  out  in  boyish  glee,  throwing 
his  bridle  over  the  hitching  post,  and  springing  to  the  ground  : 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Kirke.  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  ;  mother  will 
be  so  glad  to  see  you.     We'll  have  such  a  nice  time." 


A     SLAVE     MOT  II  EB.  05 

"  Why,  Joe,  I  thought  you  were  at  home  !  " 
u  Oh  !  no.      I'm  here  at  school ;    but  father  says  I  shall 
have  a  vacation  while  you're  here.      Why  didn't  you  fetch 
Frank  ?     You  promised  you  would." 

14 1  know  I  did,  Joe ;  but  his  mother  wouldn't  let  him  come. 
She  thinks  he's  too  young  to  travel." 

u  Pshaw  !  He's  old  enough — 'most  as  old  as  I  am.  But 
never  mind,  Mr.  Kirke ;  we'll  have  a  fine  time,  hunting  and 
fishing,  and  going  to  the  races.  They're  to  have  a  big  one 
over  to  Trenton  next  week,  and  I'm  bound  to  go.  It's  so 
lucky  you've  come." 

"  Lord  bless  you,  Joe  !  I  never  was  at  a  race,  and  never 
shot  a  gun  in  my  life.  Besides,  I  can  remain  only  a  day  or 
two." 

M  Oh  !  yes,  you  can.  Father  says  you  Yorkers  are  always 
in  a  hurry ;  but  you  must  take  it  easy  now.  I'll  show  you 
round,  and  learn  you  the  ropes." 

While  I  was  laughing  at  the  enthusiasm  of  the  lad,  the 
wagon  drove  up,  and,  Preston  soon  appearing,  we  entered 
it,  and  drove  off.  As  Joe  bounded  upon  his  spirited  horse  and 
led  the  way  down  the  elm-shaded  street,  I  said  to  his  father : 

"  How  that  boy  rides  !     He's  a  perfect  Centaur." 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  good  horseman ;  he's  been  trained  to  it. 
You  know  we  think  manly  exercises  an  essential  part  of  a 
gentleman's  education." 

"  And  you  let  Joe  keep  his  own  horse  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  it's  awfully  expensive ;  but  old  Joe  raised  the  colt 
for  the  boy,  and  I  couldn't  deny  him." 

We  rode  on  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  stopped  be- 
fore a  small,  tumble-down  shanty,  built  of  rough  boards,  and 


96  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

roofed  with  the  same  material.  In  the  narrow  front  yard,  a 
large  iron  pot,  supported  on  two  upright  poles,  was  steaming 
over  a  light  wood  fire.  The  boiling  clothes  it  contained  were 
beino-  stirred  by  a  brawny,  coal-black  negro  woman,  with  an 
arm  like  the  Farnese  Hercules,  and  a  form  as  stout  as  Wouter 
Van  Twiller's.  The  yellow  boy,  Ally,  was  heaping  wood  on 
the  fire. 

"How  do  you  do,  aunty?"  said  Preston,  as  we  drew  up  at 
the  rickety  gate. 

"  Right  smart,  massa,  right  smart,"  replied  the  woman ; 
then,  turning  round  and  recognizing  the  Squire,  she  added  : 
"  Oh !  massa  Preston,  am  dat  'on  ?  Oh  !  I'se  so  'joiced  'ou 
got  Ally ;  I'se  so  'joiced  !  De  Lord  yere  my  prayer,  ma?sa ; 
de  Lord  yere  my  prayer.  I  feel  like  I  die  wid  joy,  de  Lord  so 
good  ter  me.     Oh  !  He'm  so  good  ter  me  !  " 

u  The  Lord  is  good  to  all  who  love  Him.  He  never  fails 
those  that  trust  in  Him,"  said  Preston,  solemnly. 

"  No  more'n  He  doan't,  massa ;  no  more'n  He  doan't.  De 
good  missus  tole  me  dat  jess  wen  dey  toted  de  pore  chile  'way ; 
but  I  couldn't  b'lieve  it,  massa;  I  couldn't  b'lieve  it.  It 
'peared  like  I  neber'd  see  'im  agin — neber'd  see  'im  agin ;  but 
I  prayed  de  Lord,  massa — I  prayed  de  Lord  all  de  time — all 
de  time  dat  de  chile  wus  'way :  I  hab  no  sleep,  I  eat  'most 
nuffin,  an'  my  heart  grow  so  big,  I  fought  it  would  clean 
broke  ;  but  lass  night,  massa,  jess  wen  it  'peared  like  I  couldn't 
stan'  it  no  more — wen  I  wus  a  cryin'  an'  a  groanin'  to  de  Lord 
wid  all  my  might,  den,  massa,  de  Lord  He  hard  me,  an'  He 
open  de  door,  an'  de  little  chile  run  in,  an'  he  put  him  arms 
round  my  neck,  an'  he  telled  me  I  need  neber  cry  no  more, 
'case  de  good  massa  had  got  him !     Oh !    it  wus  too  much, 


•  A     SLAVE      MOTHER.  97 

massa,  fur  Wfl  so  good — de  Lord's  so  good,  massa !  Oh  !  I 
feel  like  I  should  die  oh  joy."  Here  she  sat  down  on  a  rude 
bench  near  by,  covered  her  face  with  her  apron,  and  sobbed 
like  a  child.  Preston's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but,  brushing 
them  hastily  away,  he  asked,  as  if  to  change  the  subject: 

44  Did  you  say  the  '  missus '  had  been  down  ?  " 

44  Yas.  massa ;  de  good  missus  come  down  jess  so  soon  as 
she  hard  Phylly  war  sold ;  an'  wen  she  fine  Ally  war  gwine 
too.  she  come  ter  see  de  ole  'ooman — she  did,  massa — and  she 
try  to  comfut  har.  She  say  de  good  Lord  would  fotch  Ally 
back,  an'  He  hab,  massa  !     Oh  !  He  nab." 

"Well,  Dinah,  what  shall  we  do  with  Ally?  Do  you 
want  him  to  go  to  the  plantation  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yas,  massa ;  I  want  de  chile  ter  be  wid  'ou.  I'd 
rudder  he'd  be  wid  'ou,  massa ;  but,  massa " — and  she  spoke 
timidly,  and  with  hesitation — "  'ou  knows  ole  massa  promise 
ter  sell  Ally  ter  me — ter  sell  'im  ter  me  wen  I'd  a  sabed  up 
'nuff  ter  buy  'im.     An'  will  'ou,  massa,  will  'ou  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Dinah ;   of  course  I  will,"  said  Preston. 

"  Oh  !  bress  'ou,  massa  ;  bress  'ou.  It'm  so  good  ob  'ou — 
so  good  ob  'ou,  massa ; "  and  she  sobbed  harder  than  before. 

14  How  much  have  you  saved,  aunty  ?  " 

44  A  hun'red  and  firteen  dollar,  massa ;  an'  dar's  some 
more'n  dat  massa  Blackwell  am  ter  gib  fur  usin'  on  it.  Mas^a 
Blackwell's  got  it.     How  much  shill  I  pay  fur  Ally,  massa  ?  " 

u  Well,  I  don't  know  ;  the  trader  offered  three  hundred  for 
him.     You  may  have  him  for  half  that." 

"  How  much'm  dat,  massa  ?  " 

11  A  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

"He'm  wuth  more'n  dat,  massa  Preston;  ole  massa  sag 
5 


98  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIENDS.         # 

Ally  wuth  two  lmn'red  an'  fifty,  or  three  hun'red,  ob  any  folks' 
money.     He'm  a  likely  boy,  massa." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that ;  I  don't  mean  to  undervalue  him.  I 
wouldn't  sell  him  to  any  one  else  for  less  than  three  hundred 
dollars." 

M  Oh  !  tank  'ou,  massa ;  it'm  good  ob  'ou — bery  good  ob 
'ou,  massa ; "  and  again  her  apron  found  the  way  to  her  eyes. 

"  Well,"  said  Preston,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "  I  think 
you'd  better  take  him  now,  aunty.  I'm  in  some  trouble,  and 
it's  uncertain  how  things  will  turn  with  me ;  so  you'd  better 
take  him  now." 

•'  But  I  hain't  money  'nuff,  now,  massa." 

11  "Well,  never  mind ;  pay  the  rest  when  you  can,  but  don't 
scrimp  yourself  as  you  have,  Dinah  ;  I  shan't  mind  if  you 
never  pay  it."  The  woman  seemed  bewildered,  but  said  noth- 
ing; she  evidently  was  unaccustomed  to  Preston's  mode  of 
doing  business.  I  mentioned  to  him  that  he  could  not  give  a 
conveyance  of  the  negro  boy  until  the  judgment  against  him 
was  cancelled. 

"  True,"  he  replied ;  "  I  didn't  think  of  that.  Shall  we 
attend  to  it  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  sooner  the  better ;  further  costs  may  accumulate 
if  you  delay." 

Preston  told  the  negro  woman  to  meet  him  at  eleven 
o'clock,  at  the  store  of  the  person  who  had  charge  of  her 
money,  and  we  rode  at  once  to  the  "  Old  State  Bank."  It 
was  previous  to  banking  hours,  but  as  the  cashier  resided  in 
the  building,  we  soon  secured  notes  in  exchange  for  Preston's 
draft  on  me,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  had  the  judgment  satis- 
fied, and  Ally's  free  papers  properly  made  out  and  executed. 


A     SLAVE     MOTHER.  99 

It  was  not  quite  ten  o'clock  when,  as  we  were  leaving  the 
attorney's  office,  we  noticed  the  slave  woman  and  her  son 
seated  on  the  steps  of  Mr.  Blackwell's  store  opposite. 

"  Are  you  all  ready,  aunty  ?  "  asked  Preston. 

"  Yas,  massa,  I'se  all  ready  ;  I'se  got  de  gole  all  heah,"  she 
replied,  holding  up  a  small  canvas  bag;  "a  hun'red  an'  twenty  - 
sevin  dollar  an'  firty  cents — so  massa  Blackwell  say ;  I  karn't 
reckon  so  much  as  dat,  massa." 

The  woman  had  on  a  clean  white  neckerchief,  and  a  bran 
new  pair  of  brogans,  and  had  made  an  effort  to  spruce  up  for 
the  interview,  but  she  still  wore  the  tattered  red  and  yellow 
turban,  and  the  thin  Osnaburg  gown — clean,  but  patched  in 
many  places,  in  which  she  was  arrayed  when  over  the  wash 
kettle. 

The  merchant  then  came  to  the  door,  and  invited  us  in. 
Preston  handed  him  the  papers  to  examine,  and  we  all  entered 
the  store.  As  the  woman  laid  the  gold  on  the  counter,  I  said 
to  her : 

"  Aunty,  how  long  have  you  been  in  saving  this  money  ?  " 

"  Four  year,  massa.  Ole  massa  wouldn't  'gree  ter  sell  de 
chile  till  four  year  ago." 

"  And  you've  hired  your  time,  and  earned  this  by  washing 
and  ironing  ?  " 

"  Yas,  sar  ;  I'se  had  ter  pay  massa  a  hun'red  and  firty  dol- 
lar ebery  year,  'sides  twenty  fur  rent ;  an*  I'se  had  ter  work 
bery  hard,  of'en  till  'way  inter  de  night ;  but  I  wanted  to  hab 
de  chile  free,  massa." 

"  And  have  you  had  no  husband  to  help  you  ?  " 

"  No,  massa ;  I  neber  had  none ;  I  neber  tuk  ter  de  men 
folks." 


<    100  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

She  was,  as  I  have  said,  of  a  coal-black  complexion,  while 
Ally's  skin  was  a  bright  yellow.  His  father,  therefore,  must 
have  been  a  white  man. 

"  You  have  worked  very  hard,  no  doubt,  aunty.  Are  these 
the  best  clothes  you  have  ?  " 

"  Yas,  massa ;  dese  am  all  Pse  got." 

"  Well,  here  are  ten  dollars ;  buy  yourself  some  for  the 
winter." 

u  Oh  !  tank  'ou,  massa,  'Ou's  too  good,  massa  ;  I  tank  'ou 
bery  much  ;  but  'ou'll  leff  me  gib  dis  ter  de  Squire,  massa, 
'on't  'ou  ?     I  wants  ter  pay  fur  Ally." 

"  Yes,  if  he  will  take  it,"  I  replied,  for  I  felt  sure  he  would  not. 

The  merchant  had  examined  the  documents,  and  Preston 
had  counted  the  money  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  when,  handing 
the  papers  to  Dinah,  the  Squire  said : 

"  Now,  aunty,  Ally's  free,  and  I  hope  he'll  grow  up  a  good 
boy,  and  worthy  of  such  a  mother." 

"  Oh  !  he  will  dat,  massa ;  he'm  a  good  chile  ;  but  heah'm 
ten  dollar  more,  massa — it'm  de  good  gemman's,  an'  he  say  I 
kin  gib  it  ter  'ou  fur  Ally." 

Preston  laughed.  "  I  heard  what  he  said.  I  can't  take  it, 
Dinah.  You  need  it  for  winter  clothing.  Pll  take  the  risk 
of  what  you  owe  me." 

The  shopkeeper  said : 

"  Take  it,  Squire  ;  Pll  let  Dinah  have  what  she  needs  from 
the  store  ;  she  knows  her  credit  is  good  with  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Preston,  taking  the  money,  "  this  makes  one 
hundred  and  thirty-seven  dollars  and  thirty  cents.  You  need 
not  pay  any  more,  Dinah  ;  Ally  is  yours  now." 

"Oh!    am  Ally  free,  massa?     Am  de  chile  free?"  she 


A      SLAVE      MOTIIEK.  101 

exclaimed,  taking  him  in  her  arms,  and  bursting  into  a  hyster- 
ical lit  of  wet-ping. 

Every  eye  was  wet,  but  no  one  spoke.     At  last  Dinah  said : 

"But,  massa  Preston,  I  wants  'ou  ter  take  de  chile.  I 
wants  'ou  ter  fotch  'im  up.  I  karn't  lam  'im  nuffin.  I  doan't 
know  nuffin,  massa.     He  kin  git  lamin'  wid  'ou." 

"  But  he's  all  you  have.  At  home  he'll  be  a  help  and  a 
comfort  to  you." 

"  I  doan't  want  no  help,  massa.  He'm  free  now ;  I 
doan't  want  no  help  no  more." 

"  Well,  aunty,  I'll  take  him,  and  pay  you  twenty  dollars  a 
year,  till  he's  fifteen.     He's  twelve,  now,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  A'most  twelve,  massa,  a'most.  But  'ou  needn't  pay  me 
nuffin ;  jess  gib  de  chile  what  you  likes.  And,  massa,  'ou'll 
speak  ter  Boss  Joe  'bout  'im,  woan't  'ou?  'Ou'll  ax  'im  ter 
see  Ally  gwoes  ter  de  meetin's,  an'  larns  suffin  out  ob  de  books, 
woan't  'ou,  massa  ?     I  wants  him  ter  know  suffin." 

"  Yes,  I  will,  Dinah ;  and  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  him  myself." 

"Tank  'ou,  massa;  an'  p'raps  'ou'll  leff  de  chile  come 
down  ter  see  'im  ole  mammy  once'n  a  while  ?  " 

M  Yes,  I  will — once  a  month.  Come,  now,  Dinah,  get  into 
the  wagon  ;  we  go  right  by  your  house." 

We  stepped  into  the  vehicle,  and  drove  off.  When  we 
reached  the  shanty,  the  negress  got  out,  and,  amid  a  shower  of 
blessings  from  her,  we  rode  on  to  the  plantation.  For  four 
long  years  she  had  worked  fifteen  hours  a  day,  and  denied  her- 
self every  comfort,  to  buy  her  child  ;  and  when,  at  last,  she 
had  secured  his  freedom,  she  was  willing  to  part  from  him, 
that  lie  might  "  larn  suffin  out  ob  de  books."  Has  not  her 
wretched  race  the  instincts  and  feelings  that  make  us  hilnian? 


CHAPTER   VIII 


THE    PLANTATION. 


It  was  a  clear,  cold,  sunshiny  day — one  of  those  days  so 
peculiar  to  the  Southern  climate,  when  the  blood  bounds 
through  every  vein  as  if  thrilled  by  electricity,  and  a  man  of 
lively  temperament  can  scarcely  restrain  his  legs  from  dancing 
a  "breakdown."  "We  rode  rapidly  on  through  a  timbered 
country,  where  the  tall  trees  grew  up  close  by  the  roadside, 
locking  their  huge  arms  high  in  the  air,  and  the  long,  graceful 
black  moss  hung,  like  mourning  drapery,  from  the  great  branches. 
The  green  pine-tassels  carpeted  the  ground,  and  breathed  a 
grateful  odor  around  us ;  and  the  soft  autumn  wind  swayed  the 
tops  of  the  old  trees,  and  sang  a  pleasant  song  over  our  heads. 
Every  pine  bore  the  scars  of  the  turpentine  axe,  and  here  and 
there,  in  a  patch  of  woods,  a  negro  gang  was  gathering  the  "  last 
dipping ; "  and  now  and  then,  in  an  open  clearing,  a  poor 
planter  was  at  work  with  a  few  field  hands.  Occasionally  we 
forded  a  small  stream,  where,  high  up  on  the  bank,  was  a  rude 
ferry,  which  served  in  the  rainy  season  as  a  miserable  substi- 
tute for  a  bridge ;  and  once  in  a  while,  far  back  from  the  road, 
we  caught  sight  of  an  old  country  seat,  whose  dingy,  unpainted 
walls,  broken-down  fences,  and  dilapidated  surroundings,  re- 
minded one  that  shiftless  working  men,  and  careless,  reckless 


THE     PLANTATION.  103 

proprietors  are  the  natural  products  of  slavery.  Thus  we  rode 
on  for  several  hours,  till,  turning  a  slight  bend  in  the  road,  we 
suddenly  halted  before  the  gateway  of  my  friend's  plantation. 
1  had  observed,  for  half  a  mile,  that  the  woods  which  lined  the 
wayside  were  clear  of  underbrush,  the  felled  trees  trimmed, 
and  their  branches  carefully  piled  in  heaps ;  and  the  rails, 
which  in  other  places  straggled  about  in  the  road,  were  doing 
their  appropriate  duty  on  the  fences  ;  and  I  said  to  Preston : 
M I  am  glad  to  see  you  are  as  good  at  planting  as  at  preach- 

"  Bless  you !  "  he  replied,  "it  isn't  me;  it's  Joe.  Joe  is 
acknowledged  the  best  farmer  in  Jones  county." 

At  the  gateway  we  received  a  greeting  unknown  the 
world  over,  outside  of  a  Southern  plantation.  Perched  on  the 
fences,  swinging  on  the  gate,  and  hanging  in  the  trees,  were 
a  score  of  young  ebonies,  of  both  sexes,  who,  as  we  came 
in  sight,  set  up  a  chorus  of  discordant  shouts  that  made  the 
woods  ring.  Among  the  noises,  I  made  out :  "  Gorry ! 
massa'm  come."  u  Dar  dey  is."  "  Dat'm  de  strange  gem- 
man."  "  How's  'ou,  massa  ?  "  "  Glad  'ou's  come,  massa  ; 
'peared  like  we'd  neber  see  'ou  no  more,  massa ; "  and  a  multi- 
tude of  similar  exclamations,  which  told  unmistakably  the 
kind  of  discipline  to  which  they  were  accustomed.  The 
young  chattels  are  infallible  plantation  barometers — they  in- 
dicate the  true  state  of  the  weather.  One  may  never  see 
among  the  older  slaves  of  a  cruel  master  any  but  pleasant 
faces,  for  they  know  the  penalty  of  surliness  before  a  stranger ; 
but  the  little  darkies  cannot  be  restrained.  They  will  slink 
away  into  by-corners  or  scamper  out  of  sight  whenever  their 
owner  appears,  if  he  does  not  treat  them  kindly. 


104  MY     SOUTH  IBS     PSllKfiS. 

w  Massa's  well.     Are  you  all  well  ?  n 

M  Yes,  niassa,  we's  right  smart ;  an'  all  on  we's  good  little 
nigs  eber  sence  'ou's  'way." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Now  scamper  to  the  house,  and  tell 
1  missus '  we're  coming." 

"  Missus  knows  'ou's  comin',  massa  ;  massa  Joe  am  dar  ; 
missus  knows  'ou's  comin'." 

A  short  drive  throgh  a  narrow  winding  avenue,  strewn  with 
leaves,  and  shaded  with  the  long  branches  of  the  pine,  the  oak, 
and*the  holly,  brought  us  to  the  mansion,  which  stood  on  a 
gentle  mound  in  the  midst  of  a  green  lawn,  sloping  down  to  a 
small  lake.  It  had  once  been  a  square,  box-like  structure  ;  but 
Preston  had  so  tiaiisformed  it,  that,  but  for  its  rustic  surround- 
ings, and  the  thick  groups  of  giant  evergreens  which  clustered 
at  its  sides,  it  might  have  been  taken  for  a  suburban  villa. 
Projecting  eaves,  large  dormers,  which  sprang  out  from  the 
roof-line  and  nested  on  a  broad  porch  and  balcony,  a  rustic 
jporte  cochere,  and  here  arid  there  a  vine-covered  bay  or  oriole 
window,  broke  up  the  regularity  of  its  outline,  and  proclaimed 
its  designer  a  true  poet — and  poetry,  nowadays,  is  more  often 
written  on  the  walls  of  country  houses,  than  in  the  corners  of 
country  newspapers. 

Excepting  the  field  hands,  nearly  all  of  the  "family"  had 
gathered  to  witness  our  arrival ;  but  there  was  no  shouting  or 
noisy  demonstration.  After  he  had  greeted  Mrs.  Preston  and 
his  two  little  daughters — his  twin  roses,  as  he  called  them — my 
host  turned  to  the  assembled  negroes,  and  gave  each  one  his 
hand  and  a  kind  word.  The  hearty  "  Lord  bress  'ou,  good 
massa!  "  and  "  Glad  'ou's  come,  massa,"  which  broke  from  all 
of  them,  would  have  gladdened  the  heart  of  even  the  bitterest 


TIIE     PLANTATION.  105 

opponent  of  the  peculiar  institution.  One  old  woman,  whose 
bead  W»a  white  as  snow,  and  whose  bent  form  showed  great 
age,  sat  on  a  lower  step  of  the  porch,  surrounded  by  a  cluster 
of  children.  Iler  mistress  raised  her  to  her  feet  as  Preston 
approached ;  and,  throwing  her  trembling  arms  around  his 
neck,  she  sobbed  out : 

"  Oh !  massa  Robert,  ole  missy  am  happy  now ;  she'll 
neber  leff  'ou  gwo  'way  agin." 

Mrs.  Preston  shortly  turned  to  lead  the  way  into  the  house. 
As  she  did  so,  I  noticed  peeping  from  out  the  folds  of  her 
dress,  where  she  had  shyly  hid  away,  a  younger  child,  of 
strange  and  wonderful  beauty.  She  had  not,  like  the  others, 
the  fair  complexion  and  pure  Grecian  features  of  her  mother. 
Her  skin  was  dark,  and  her  hair,  which  fell  in  glossy  curls  over 
her  neck,  was  a  rich  golden  brown.  Her  cheeks  seemed  two 
rose  leaves  thinly  sprinkled  with  snow ;  her  eyes,  coals  which 
held  a  smouldering  flame.  Her  face  was  one  of  those  caught 
now  and  then  by  the  old  painters — a  thing  dreamed  of,  but 
seldom  seen :  the  pure  expression  of  an  ideal  loveliness 
winch  is  not  of  the  earth.  I  reached  out  my  hands  to  her, 
and  said : . 

u  Come  here,  my  little  one.  This  is  one  I  have  not  seen, 
Mrs.  Preston." 

M  Xo,  sir ;  we  have  never  taken  her  North ;  she  is  too 
young.     Go  to  the  gentleman,  my  pet." 

The  child  came  timidly  to  me,  and  suffered  me  to  lift  her  in 
my  arms. 

M  And  what  is  your  name,  my  little  one  ?  " 

"  Selly,   sar,"   she    replied,    with    the   soft,   mellow   accent 
which  the  planter's  children  acquire  from  the  negroes. 
5 


106  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  What  an  odd  name  !  "  I  remarked. 

u  Yes,  sir,  it  is  singular.  Her  full  name  is  Selma,"  replied 
her  mother. 

"  What !  who  have  we  here  ?  "  exclaimed  Preston,  as  he 
turned  away  from  the  negroes,  and  stepped  up  on  the  piazza. 

11  Why,  it's  Selly,  Robert.  Don't  you  know  your  own 
child  ?  " 

Preston  took  the  little  girl  in  his  arms,  and  said,  with  some 
feeling : 

"  It's  like  you,  Lucy.  No  man  ever  had  a  wife  like  mine, 
Kirke." 

"  Xo  one  but  Mr.  Kirke  himself,  you  mean,  Robert,"  re- 
plied the  lady,  smiling,  and  then  adding : 

"  Selly  has  been  in  Newbern  for  a  time.  Mr.  Preston  did 
not  expect  to  find  her  at  home." 

We  entered  the  house,  and,  taking  seats  in  the  drawing 
room,  awaited  dinner.  We  had  not  been  there  long  before 
u  Master  Joe  "  burst  into  the  apartment,  exclaiming  : 

"  Come,  Mr.  Kirke,  Joe  is  outside ;  he  wants  to  see  you. 
Come." 

"Tell  Joe  to  wait.  Don't  disturb  Mr.  Kirke  now,"  said 
his  father. 

"  Oh  !  no,  Preston  ;  let  me  see  him  at  once  ; "  and,  rising, 
I  followed  the  lad  from  the  room. 

Joe  was  a  dark-colored  mulatto  man,  about  fifty  years  of 
age.  He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  "  butternut  homespun,"  and 
held  in  his  hand  the  ordinary  slouched  hat  worn  by  the  "  na- 
tives." His  hair — the  short,  crispy  wool  of  the  African — was 
sprinkled  with  gray,  and  he  had  the  thick  lips  and  broad, 
heavy  features  of  his  race.      Nearly  six  feet  high,  he  was 


THE     PLANTATION.  107 

stoutly  and  compactly  built,  and,  but  for  a  disproportion  in  the 
size  of  his  legs,  one  of  which  was  smaller  and  two  or  three 
inches  shorter  than  the  other,  might  have  rated  as  a  "  prime 
field  hand."  But  a  high,  well-developed  forehead,  and  a  clear, 
intelligent  eye,  together  with  a  certain  self-possessed  manner, 
indicated  that  he  was  more  than  an  ordinary  negro. 

"  Here,  Joe ;  here's  Mr.  Kirke.  Make  your  best  bow,  old 
fellow,"  shouted  the  lad,  as  he  sprang  out  upon  the  piazza. 
Joe,  making  the  requisite  bow,  said  : 

"  I'se  bery  glad  ter  see  you,  Mr.  Kirke." 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Joseph.  I  feel  well  acquainted 
with  you,"  I  replied,  cordially. 

"  I  feels  well  'quainted  wid  you,  sar.     I'se  wanted  ter  see 
you  bery  much,  Mr.  Kirke.     You'll  'scuse  my  'sturbin'  you ; 
but  de  boy"— and  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  lad's  head—"  'sisted 
on  my  comin'  ter  onst." 
s    Before  I  could  reply,  his  master  came  out  of  the  house. 

"Welcome  home,  massa  Robert,"  said  the  black  man,  to 
whom  Preston  gave  his  hand,  and  who  then  added,  in  a  quick, 
anxious  tone:  "What  luck  in  Virgmny  ?  Did  you  do  it,' 
massa  Robert  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Preston;  "I  couldn't  get  a  dollar-not  a  dol- 
lar, Joe." 

"  I  feared  dat— I  feared  dat,  massa  Robert.  Nobody  keer 
nuffin'  fur  you  but  ole  Joe-nobody  but  ole  Joe,  massa  Robert ! " 
His  eyes  moistened,  and  he  spoke  in  an  inexpressibly  tender 
tone— the  tone  of  a  mother  when  speaking  to  her  child. 

"  Nobody  but  Mr.  Kirke,  Joe.  He  has  paid  the  judg- 
ment ! " 

"  Bress  you,   Mr.  Kirke !    de  Lord  bress  you,  sar.      But 


108  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

dar's  more,  you  knows,  massa  Robert,  You  tole  Mr.  Kirke 
'boutdem?" 

"  No,  Joe.     I  should  have  done  it ;  but  I  couldn't." 

11  P'raps  Mr.  Kirke  wouldn't  hab  paid  dat,  if  he'd  a  know'd 
de  whole  !  "  said  Joe,  in  a  hesitating  tone. 

"  Undoubtedly  I  would,  Joe.  It's  no  great  matter,  I'm 
sure,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  Joe,  never  mind  this  now.  We'll  talk  affairs  all 
over  with  Mr.  Kirke  before  he  goes,"  said  Preston. 

"  Dat's  right,  massa  Robert ;  gemman  like  Mr.  Kirke 
knows  'bout  dese  tings  better'n  you  nor  me." 

Preston  nodded  assent,  and  we  reentered  the  mansion 


CHAPTER    IX. 

PLANTATION      MANAGEMENT. 

After  dinner,  we  rode  over  my  friend's  plantation.  It 
contained  about  twelve  hundred  acres,  mainly  covered  with 
forest  trees,  but  with  here  and  there  an  isolated  patch  of 
cleared  land  devoted  to  corn  and  cotton.  A  small  tributary  of 
the  Trent  formed  its  northern  boundary,  and  bordering  the 
little  stream  was  a  tract  of  three  hundred  acres  of  low, 
swampy  ground,  heavily  timbered  with  cypress  and  juniper. 
Tall  old  pines,  denuded  of  bark  for  one  third  of  their  height, 
and  their  white  faces  bearded  with  long,  shining  flakes  of. 
"scrape  turpentine,"  crowned  the  uplands;  and  scattered 
among  them,  about  a  hundred  well-clad,  "well-kept"  negro 
men  and  women  were  shouting  pleasantly  to  one  another,  or 
singing  merrily  some  simple  song  of  "  Ole  Car'lina,"  as  with 
the  long  scrapers  they  peeled  the  glistening  scales  from  the 
scarified  trees,  or,  gathering  them  in  their  aprons,  "  dumped  " 
them  into  the  rude  barrels  prepared  for  their  reception.  Pres- 
ton had  a  kind  word  for  each  one  as  we  passed — a  pleasant 
inquiry  about  an  infirm  mother  or  a  sick  child,  or  some  encour- 
aging comment  on  their  cheerful  work ;  and  many  were  the 
hearty  blessings  they  showered  upon  "  good  massa,"  and  many 
their  good-natured  exclamations  over  "  de  strange  gemman  dat 
sell  massa's  truck." 


110  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  He'm  de  kine,  'ou  gals,"  shouted  an  old  daiky,  bent 
nearly  double  with  age,  who,  Jeaning  against  one  of  the  bar- 
rels, was  "packing  down"  the  flakes  as  they  were  emptied 
from  the  aprons  of  the  women  :  "  He'm  de  kine,  I  tell  by  him 
eye  ;  de  rocks  doan't  grow  fass  ter  dat  gemman's  pocket ! " 

"Well,  they  don't,  uncle,"  I  replied,  tossing  him  a  half- 
dollar  piece,  and  throwing  a  handful  of  smaller  coin  among  the 
women.  A  general  scramble  followed,  in  which  the  old  fellow 
nimbly  joined,  shouting  out  between  his  boisterous  explosions 
of  merriment : 

"  Dis  am  de  sort,  massa ;  dis  am  manna  rainin'  in  de  wil- 
derness— de  Lord's  chil'ren  lub  dis  kine ;  it'm  good  ter  take, 
massa,  good  ter  take." 

"  Good  as  black  jack,  eh,  uncle  ? "  I  inquired,  laughing, 
for  I  saw  certain  lines  about  his  shrunken  mouth,  and  under- 
neath his  sunken  eyes,  which  told  plainly  he  was  rather 
too  familiar  with  that  delicious  compound  of  strychnine  and 
whiskey.     . 

"  Yas,  massa,  good  as  black  Jack ;  dat's  my  name,  massa, 
dat's  my  name — yah  !  yah  ! "  and  he  turned  his  face,  wet  with 
merry  tears,  and  distended  in  an  uncommonly  broad  grin,  up 
to  mine.  In  a  moment,  however,  his  eye  caught  Preston's. 
His  broad  visage  collapsed,  his  distended  mouth  shrank  to  a 
very  diminutive  opening,  and  his  twinkling  eyes  assumed  a 
peculiarly  stolid  expression,  as  he  added,  in  a  deprecatory  tone  : 

M  No,  massa  Robert,  I  doan't  mean  black  jack — I  doan't 
mean  dat ;  'ou  knows  I  doan't  keer  fur  him  ;  'ou  knows  I 
doan't  knows  him  no  more,  massa  Robert." 

"  I  am  glad  you  don't  know  him,"  replied  Preston,  playing 
on  his  name.     "  He's  a  hardened  old  sinner.     But  you  know 


PLANTATION     MANAGEMENT.  Ill 

better  than  to  ask  presents  of  strangers.  Give  it  back  to  the 
gentleman  at  once." 

An  indescribable  expression  stole  over  the  old  negro's  vis- 
age as  he  thrust  his  hand  through  his  thin,  frosty  wool,  looked 
pleadingly  up  in  his  master's  face,  and,  seeing  no  signs  of  re- 
lenting there,  slowly  and  reluctantly  opened  his  palm,  and 
tendered  me  the  money. 

"  No,  no,  Preston,  let  him  keep  it ;  it  won't  do  him  any 
harm,"  I  said. 

"  No  more'n  it  woan't,  good  massa — not  a  morsel  ob 
harm,"  exclaimed  the  darky,  his  small  eyes  twinkling  again 
with  pleasurable  anticipation,  and  his  broad  face  widening 
into  its  accustomed  grin ;  "I  woan't  take  nary  drop,  massa 
Robert,  nary  drop." 

"Well,"  said  his  master,  "you  can  keep  it,  if  you'll  prom- 
ise not  to  drink  it  up  to-morrow.  So  much  whiskey  would 
spoil  your  prayer  at  the  meeting." 

"  So  it  'ould,  massa  Robert — so  much  as  dat ;  but  Jack 
allers  prays  de  stronger  fur  a  little,  massa  Robert — jess  a  little  ; 
it  sort  o'  'pears  ter  warm  up  de  ole  man's  sperrets,  and  ter  fetch 
all  de  'votion  right  inter  him  froat." 

u  I  suppose  it  does — all  the  devotion  you  ever  feel.  You're 
past  praying  for,  I  fear.  Jack,"  replied  Preston,  good-naturedly, 
turning  his  horse  to  go. 

"  Not  pass  prayin'  fur  'ou,  massa  Robert,  not  pass  dat ;  an1 
ole  Jack  neber  will  be,  nudder — not  so  long  as  he  kin  holler 
loud  'nuff  fur  de  Lord  ter  yere.  'Ou  may  'pend  on  dat,  massa 
Robert,  'ou  may  'pend  on  dat." 

As  we  rode  away,  I  asked  Preston  if  the  old  black  led  the 
services  at  the  negro  meetings. 


112  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIENDS. 

"Yes,  I  am  obliged  to  let  him.  He  was  formerly  the 
plantation  preacher,  and,  with  all  his  faults,  the  blacks  are 
much  attached  to  him.  A  small  rebellion  broke  out  among 
them,  five  years  ago,  when  I  displaced  him,  and  put  Joe  into 
the  pulpit.  I  compromised  the  difficulty  by  agreeing  that 
Jack  should  lead  in  prayer  every  Sunday  morning.  They 
think  he  has  a  gift  that  way,  and  you  would  conclude  the  day 
of  Pentecost  had  come,  if  you  should  hear  him  when  he  is 
about  half-seas-over." 

"  Then  he  does  pray  better  for  a  little  whiskey  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;   a  mug  of  '  black  jack'  helps  him  amazingly." 

After  a  two  hours'  circuit  of  the  plantation,  we  halted  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  distilleries,  which  stood  huddled  together  on 
the  bank  of  the  little  stream  of  which  I  have  spoken.  There 
were  three  of  them,  each  of  thirty  barrels'  capacity — an  enor- 
mous size — and  they  were  neatly  set  in  brick,  and  enclosed  in 
a  substantial  framed  structure,  which  was  weatherboarded,  and 
coated  with  paint  of  a  dark  brown  color.  Near  the  only  one 
then  in  operation  were  several  large  heaps  of  flake  turpentine, 
three  or  four  hundred  barrels  of  rosin,  and  a  vast  quantity  of 
the  same  material  scattered  loosely  about  and  mixed  with  bro- 
ken staves,  worn-out  strainers,  and  the  debris  of  the  rosin  bins. 
Pointing  to  the  confused  mass,  I  said  to  my  host : 

"  I've  half  a  mind  to  turn  missionary.  I  feel  a  sort  of  call 
to  preach  to  you  Southern  heathen." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  he  rejoined;  "you'd  give  me  a 
chance  to  laugh  at  your  sermons,  as  you  have  laughed  at 
mine." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't  laugh.  I'd  make  you  feel  way  down 
in  your  pocket.     I'd  have  but  one  sermon  and  one  text,  and 


PLANTATION     MANAGEMENT.  113 

that  -would  be  :  '  Gather  up  the  fragments,  that  nothing  he 
lost.'  You  Southern  nabobs  do  nothing  but  waste.  You 
waste  enough  in  one  day,  to  feed  the  whole  North  for  a  week. 
It's  a  sin — the  unpardonable  sin — for  you  know  better." 

"  "Well,  it  is  wrong ;  but  Row  can  we  help  it  ?  We  can't 
make  the  negroes  anything  but  what  they  are — shiftless,  and 
careless  of  everything  but  their  own  ease." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  I  think  such  *a  man  as  Joe 
ought  to  be  able  to  manage  them." 

"  Joe  !  Well,  he  can't — he's  all  drive.  And  negroes  are 
human  beings  ;  they  should  be  treated  kindly." 

"We  had  approached  the  front  of  the  still,  and  were  fasten- 
ing our  horses  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  when  we  heard  loud 
voices  issuing  from  the  other  side  of  the  enclosure. 

11  Here'm  what  I  owes  you.  Now  pack  off  ter  oust,  and 
don't  neber  show  your  face  on  dis  plantation  no  more,"  said  a 
voice,  which  I  at  once  recognized  as  that  of  "  boss  Joe." 

"  I  shan't  pack  off  till  I'm  ready,  you  d — d  black  nigger. 
I've  been  bossed  'bout  by  ye  long  'nuff.  Gar  out,  and  'tend 
ter  yer  own  'fairs,"  rejoined  another  voice,  which  had  the  tone 
of  a  white  man's. 

"  I  reckon  dis  am  my  'fair,  an'  I  shan't  leff  you  git  drunk, 
and  burn  up  no  more  white  rosin  yere ;  so  take  yerself  off. 
Ef  you  doan't,  I'll  make  you  blacker  nor  I  is." 

"  Put  yer  hand  on  me,  and  I'll  take  the  law  on  ye,  shore" 
returned  the  white  man. 

"  Pshaw,  you  drunken  fool !  does  you  s'pose  dese  darkies  'ould 
tell  on  me  ?  Ef  dey  'ould,  dar  word  ain't  'lowed  in  de  law ; 
so  you  trabble.  I  doan't  keer  ter  handle  you,  but  1  s-hill,  ef  you 
don't  leab  widin  five  minutes." 


114  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"What  might  have  followed  will  not  go  down  in  his- 
tory, for  just  then  Preston  and  I,  emerging  from  around  the 
corner  of  the  building,  appeared  in  view  of  the  belligerents. 
The  native — a  fair  specimen  of  the  class,  of  poor  whites — 
stood  in  a  defiant  attitude  before  the  still-fire,  while  Joe  waa 
seated  on  a  turpentine  barrel  near,  quietly  noting  the  time  by 
a  large  silver  watch  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  He  kept  on 
counting  the  minutes,  and  gave  no  heed  to  his  master's  ap- 
proach, till  Preston  said : 

"  Joe,  what's  to  pay  ?  " 

11  Numn',  massa  Robert,  'cept  1'se  'scharged  dis  man,  an' 
he  say  he  won't  gwo." 

"Do  as  Joseph  bids  you,"  said  Preston,  turning  to  the 
white  man  ;    "  take  your  pay,  and  go  at  once." 

The  man  stammered  out  a  few  words  with  a  cringing  air, 
but  the  planter  cut  him  short,  with : 

"  I  want  no  explanations.  If  you  can't  satisfy  Joseph,  you 
can't  satisfy  me." 

The  native  then  leisurely  took  down  a  ragged  coat  that 
hung  from  one  of  the  timbers,  counted  over  a  small  roll  of 
bank  notes  which  Joe  gave  him,  and  meekly  left  the  still- 
house. 

Joe  and  his  master  devoted  the  next  half  hour  to  piloting 
me  over  the  distilleries.  I  commented  rather  freely  on  the  sad 
waste  of  valuable  produce  which  was  scattered  about,  and  on 
the  bad  economy  of  keeping  three  "stills"  to  do  the  work  of 
one. 

"It  might  have  done  years  ago,"  I  remarked,  "before  your 
trees  ran  to  'scrape,' and  when  they  yielded  enough  'dip'  to 
keep  all  the  stills  busy;    but  now  they  are  eating  you  up. 


PLANTATION     MANAGEMENT.  115 

You  have  fully  four  thousand  dollars  idle  here.      Sell   them, 
Preston — that  amount  would  help  you  out  of  debt." 

"  Dat's  what  I  tells  massa  Robert,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  but  he  sort 
o'  clings  ter  ole  tings,  sar,"  said  Joe,  in  the  free,  familiar  tone 
usual  with  him. 

"  But  you  do  just  as  badly,  Joe,"  I  replied.  "  You  let 
these  darkies  waste  more  than  they  eat,  and  you  keep  four 
here  to  do  the  work  of  three.  You  are  no  better  than  your 
master."  * 

"Only  haff  so  good,  Mr.  Kirke,"  rejoined  the  black,  show- 
ing a  set  of  teeth  which  a  dentist  might  have  used  for  a  door 
plate  ;  "  only  haff  so  good,  'case  I'se  only  half  white.  But, 
ef  massa  Robert  'ould  leff  me  handle  de  whip,  I'd  show  him 
suffin'  !     I  reckon  de  int'rest  'ouldn't  be  ahind  den." 

"  Why  !  don't  you  let  Joe  whip  the  negroes  ?  "  I  asked 
Preston. 

"  No,  not  now ;  I  did,  till  some  years  ago,  when  he  almost 
killed  one  of  them,  and  came  near  getting  me  into  serious 
trouble.  He  could  manage  them  well  enough  without  whip- 
ing,  if  he'd  curb  his  impetuous  temper  a  little." 

uBut  I  does  curb  it,  massa  Robert,  and  it  ain't  ob  no 
use.  Dey  knows  I  can't  whip  'em,  an'  dey  don't  keer  fur  de 
starvin',  or  de  tyin'  up,  or  de  talkin'  to  in  de  meetin'.  Dey 
don't  mind  fur  nuffin'  but  de  whip,  an'  a  little  ex'cise  wid  dat 
does  a  nigger  good  when  he'm  right  down  'fractory.  An' 
yous  'lowed,  massa  Robert,  dat  I  warn't  so  much  ter  blame 
in  dat  'fair  ob  Black  Cale." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  weren't.  It's  a  good  story,  Kirke ; 
did  I  ever  tell  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I'd  be  glad  to  hear  it." 


116  MY     SOUTIIEEN     FEIENDS. 

"Come,  Joe,"  said  his  master,  "you  can  tell  it  better 
than  I.     You  know  it  by  heart." 

"Well,  massa,  ef  you  says  so,"  replied  Joe;  and  we 
seated  ourselves  on  some  rosin  barrels,  while  the  black  pro- 
ceeded to  give  the  following  illustration  of  the  working  of 
free  and  slave  institutions  : 

"  Well,  you  sees,  Mr.  Kirke,  de  darky's  name  wus  Black 
Cale,  an'  he  wus  a  raised  up  'long  wid  me  by  de  ole  gemman — 
dat  am  massa  Robert's  gran'fer.  He  wus  allers  a  hard-bitted, 
'fractory  darfcy,  but  he  wus  smart,  awful  smart,  an'  'ould  do  a 
heap  ob  wuck  when  a  minded  to  ;  but  he  wusn't  a  minded  to 
bery  of 'en,  an'  ole  master  use  to  hab  ter  flog  him — flog  him 
bery  hard.  "Well,  finarly,  de  ole  gemman  he  grow'd  tired  ob 
doin'  so  much  ob  dat,  an'  he  call  Cale  ter  him  one  day,  an' 
he  say : 

"  '  Cale,  you'se  a  likely  nigger,  an'  I  don't  like  ter  flog  you 
so  much.  Now,  I  leff  you  hire  you'  time,  an'  gwo  down  ter 
Newbern,  an'  shirk  fur  you'seff.' 

"  Ole  massa  know'd  Cale  wus  hab  in'  a  bad  'feet  on  de 
oder  darkies,  an'  he  'lowed  'twould  be  cheap  leffin'  him  gwo, 
ef  he  didn't  get  a  picayune  fur  him.  Well,  Cale,  he  took  ter 
dat  ter  onst,  an'  he  'greed  to  gib  ole  massa  one  fifty  a  year 
fur  his  time ;  an'  ^so  he  put  off  ter  Newbern.  Ebery  ting 
gwo  on  right  smart  till  de  ole  gemman  die.  Cale,  he  wuck 
hard,  pay  massa  ebery  year,  an'  sabe  up  quite  a  heap.  Well, 
ole  master  die  widout  a  will,  an'  all  de  property  gwo  ter  de  two 
sons  ;  dat  am  massa  James  an'  massa  Thomas — he  war  mas- 
sa Robert's  fader.  Now,  massa  James  he  neber  lib'd  on  de 
plantation,  so  he  sold  all  his  haff  ob  de  nigs  to  massa  Thomas, 
an'  put  all  de  'vails  inter  his  bisness  down  dar  ter  Mobile,  whar 


PLANTATION     MANAGEMENT.  117 

he  am  now,  doin'  a  heap  in  de  cotton  way.  But  he  didn't  sell 
his  hafT  ob  C;de.  'ease  massa  Thomas  'ouldn't  buy  him,  no- 
how. "Well,  dey  owned  Cale  tugedder  fur  a  spell,  an'  Cale  he 
wuck  on  right  smart,  till  one  day  massa  James  come  home, 
an'  he  tell  massa  Thomas  dat  on  de  way  he'd  a  stopped  at 
Newborn,  an'  sole  his  haff  ob  Cale  ter  Cale  heseff,  fur  five 
hundred  dollar,  an'  giben  him  de  free  papers.  Well,  den  Cale 
he  want  ter  buy  de  oder  haff  ob  heseff  ob  massa  Thomas,  an' 
massa  Thomas  he  offer  ter  take  de  same  money  ;  but  Cale  say 
de  oder  haff  not  wuth  so  much  as  de  fust,  an'  dat  he  'ouldn't 
gib  only  two  fifty. n 

"  Not  worth  so  much  !  why  not  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Why,  Cale  say  'case  he  could  do  what  he  like  wid  de  free 
haff,  an'  he  reckoned  he  shouldn't  be  quite  so  'sponsible,  denj 
fur  de  slave  haff,"  and  here  Joe  broke  into  a  fit  of  laugh- 
ter,  in  which  Preston  joined. 

"  Well,  massa  Thomas  an'  Cale  couldn't  'gree  'bout  de 
burin',  but  Cale  promise  ter  gib  seventy-five  dollar  a  yar  fur 
de  use  ob  massa's  haff,  an'  he  gwo  off  agin  ter  Newbern. 
Den  de  time  gwo  by  fur  a  year  or  two,  but  massa  neber  git 
nary  dime  out  ob  Cale  fur  his  haff.  Cale  'ould  say  dat  only 
haff  ob  him  wus  free,  an'  de  oder  haff  wusn't  'sponsible,  an' 
couldn't  pay  its  debts,  nohow.  Finarly,  massa,  seein'  he 
couldn't  git  nuffin'  out  ob  Cale,  only  offers  ob  two  fifty  fur  de 
oder  haff — an'  dat  he  'ouldn't  take,  nohow — send  me  down  ter 
Newbern  ter  sort  o'  mediate  'tween  Cale  an'  he.  Well,  I 
coax  Cale  ter  'gree  ter  wuck  one  monfh  fur  heseff,  an'  de 
oder  monfh  fur  massa,  an'  I  come  home  ;  but  it  warn't  ob  no 
use ;  Cale  would  wuck,  but  massa  neber  seed  a  fip  ob  de  pay. 
Finarly,  af'er  he'd  a  gone  on  dat  way  'bout  ten  yar,  stowin' 


118  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

'way  what  he  'arned  whar  nobody  could  fine  it,  an'  allers 
off'rin'  two  fifty  fur  de  oder  haff  ob  heseff,  massa  Thomas  he 
die,  an'  massa  Robert  he  come  ter  lib  on  de  plantation.  Den 
massa  Robert  he  ax  me  what  he  should  do  wid  Cale,  an'  I 
tole  him  to  take  de  two  fifty,  an'  leff  him  gwo.  But  he  say 
'  no ; '  dat  he  'ouldn't  sell  him  fur  dat,  nohow."  And  here 
the  black  looked  shyly  at  his  master,  and  a  roguish  twinkle 
came  into  his  eyes.  "  "Well,  den,  I  tole  massa  Robert  dat  I 
tought  I  could  fix  Cale,  ef  he'd  leff  me  manage  him  jess  as  I 
likes.  He  'gree  ter  dat,  an'  I  gwoes  down  ter  Newbern,  an' 
makes  Cale  come  home,  an'  den  I  say  ter  him  :  '  Now,  Cale, 
you  stay  yere,  an'  gwo  ter  wuck.  Ebery  monfh  you  wuck 
fur  me,  an'  ebery  oder  monfh  you  wuck  fur  you'seff;  an' 
when  you  wuck  fur  you'seff,  I  pay  you  so  much  fur  ebery 
barr'l  ob  dip,  an'  so  much  fur  ebery  barr'l  ob  scrape,  an' 
so  much  fur  ebery  day  when  you  wuck  roun' ;  an'  I  makes 
you  pay  so  much  fur  what  you  lib  on.'  Well,  Cale,  he 
'gree  ter  dat.  He  wuck  de  fust  monfh  fur  heseff,  an'  he  did 
wuck — he  done  twice  so  much  as  any  hand  on  de  plantation  ; 
but  de  next  monfh,  when  he  wuck  fur  me,  he  don't  do  nuffin' 
but  lay  roun',  an'  git  drunk.  I  stood  dat  till  de  monfh  wus 
up — fur  I  neber  did  take  ter  whippin'  de  nigs,  an'  massa 
Robert  know  dat — an'  den,  when  Cale  wus  clean  sober,  I  tied 
him  up  ter  gib  him  a  noggin'.  "Well,  when  he  wus  a  stripped, 
an'  I  wus  jess  gwine  ter  lay  on  de  lashes,  Cale  says  ter  me, 
says  he  :  '  Look  a  yere,  'ou  Joe  ;  'ou  may  whip  massa's  haff 
ob  dis  nig  jess  so  long  as  'ou  likes ;  but  ef  'ou  put  de  lash 
onter  my  haff,  I'll  take  de  law  on  'ou.  I  will,  shore.'  Dat  sot 
me  a  tinkin' ;  fur  de  fac'  wus,  I'd  nary  right  ter  flog  his  haff; 
but  den  it  'curred  ter  me  dat  none  but  darkies  wus  roun',  an'  so 


PLANTATION     MANAGEMENT.  119 

I  tought  I  had  him,  shore.  Well,  I  puts  on  de  lashes,  an*  he 
keeps  a  tellin'  me  he'd  hab  de  law  on  me,  which  make  me  sort 
ob  'zasparated,  till  I  put  'em  on  right  smart ;  an'  at  lass  he  gib 
in.  Well,  when  I'd  a  got  him  a  feelin'  'bout  right,  an'  wna 
only  jess  puttin'  on  de  lass  blows,  ter  finish  up  makin'  a  decent 
nigger  ob  him,  massa  Robert  he  come  up  ;  and  when  he  seed 
de  blood  a  runnin'  down  his  back,  he  say  Cale  had  been 
whipped  'bout  'nuff,  an'  I  must  stop.  Cale  turned  up  missin' 
dat  night,  an'  got  off  ter  Newbern;  an',  shore  'nuff,  de  next 
evenin',  'long  'bout  dark,  de  sherrif  he  rode  up  ter  de  house 
wid  a  writ  fur  massa  Robert  fur  habin'  made  'salt  an'  batt'ry 
on  one  collud  man,  called  Caleb  Preston  ;  an'  he  pulled  out  a 
suspeny  dat  make  massa  Robert  witness  agin  heseff — ha  !  ha  ! 
You  sees,  Cale  wus  smart ;  he  know'd  massa  Robert  b'long 
ter  de  Baptist  meetin',  an'  wouldn't  lie  fur  all  de  niggers  in 
Jones  county  ;  so  he  had  him  dar — ha  !  ha  !  " 

Here  Joe  for  some  minutes  was  unable  to  continue  the  nar- 
rative. It  was  contagious.  I  laughed  till  my  sides  were 
sore,  and  Preston  enjoyed  the  story  quite  as  much  as  I  did. 

11  Well,  what  was  the  end  of  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

11  Only,  massa  Robert  hed  to  be  toted  off  ter  Newbern  dat 
night,  git  bail,  or  sleep  in  de  jail,  an'  de  next  mornin',  af'er  de 
nig  hed  a  hed  ten  yars'  use  ob  heseff  fur  nuffin',  massa  Robert 
hed  to  do  what  he'd  a  said,  an'  his  fader  afore  him  hed  said, 
dey  neber  would  do — dat  is,  take  two  fifty  fur  de  oder  haff  ob 
Cale— ha !  ha !  De  next  time  I  gwoes  ter  Newbern  I  hunt 
Cale  up,  an'  I  tell  him  he  must  study  fur  de  law,  shore  ;  an' 
dat  ef  he  done  it,  I  know'd  massa  Robert  would  pay  de 
'spences,  out  ob  lub  ter  de  country." 

The  negroes  who  were  attending  the  still  had  dropped  their 


120  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

work  to  listen  to  Joe's  story,  and  at  its  close  guffawed  in  a  cho- 
rus that  made  the  woods  ring.  Hearing  it,  Joe  sprang  to  his 
feet,  shouting  out :  "  Yere !  'bout  you'  wuck,  dar.  Leff  me 
kotch  you  eavesdroppin'  on  gem  men  agin,  an'  I'll  gib  you  what 
I  gabe  Cale.  'Bout  you'  wuck,  I  say."  They  turned  nimbly 
to  their  tasks,  and  Joe  resumed  his  seat. 

"  I  see  the  moral  of  that  story,  Preston,"  I  said,  when  the 
negro  had  concluded. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  That  a  darky  may  be  as  smart  as  a  white  man.  Cale 
outwitted  you." 

"  Well,  he  did,"  he  replied,  laughing ;  "  but  that  isn't  the 
moral :  it  is,  that  flogging  never  accomplishes  its  object." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  Joe  had  brought  Cale  to  terms 
— '  made  a  decent  nigger  on  him  ' — when  you,  unluckily,  inter- 
fered." 

"  It  ain't  so  much  de  floggin'  on  em',  Mr.  Kirke,"  said  Joe, 
"  as  dar  knowin'  dat  you  will  do  it,  ef  dey  desarve  it.  Dar 
ain't  a  darky  on  de  plantation  dat  don't  know  massa  Robert 
an'  de  good  missus  'ould  rader  be  flogged  demselves  dan  flog 
dem ;  an'  dat  wucks  bad,  Mr.  Kirke,  sorry  bad ; "  and  the 
negro  shook  his  head  with  a  grave,  thoughtful  air. 

"Tell  me,  Preston,"  I  said,  after  a  slight  pause,  "how  is  it 
that  your  neighbor  Dawsey,  with  only  seventy-five  negroes, 
sends  us  more  produce  than  you  do,  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  ?  '" 

"  Simply  because  he  treats  his  hands  like  brutes,  while  I 
treat  mine  like  men." 

"  I  hope  you'll  take  no  offence,"  I  replied.  "  but  it  ap- 
pears to  mo  there  must  be  some  other  reason.  He  has  only 
half  your  number." 


P  L  A  N  T  A  T  I  < )  m      M  A  H  ACEMENT.  121 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you  how  he  and  I  manage,  and  you  can 
judge  for  yourself.       Dawsey  has   seventy-five   slaves:    forty 
child-bearing  women,  twenty  men,  and  fifteen  children  under 
five  years.     The  sixty  adults  are  all  prime  hands.     They  are 
given  daily  tasks,  which  they  cannot  possibly  do  in  less  than 
fifteen  hours,  leaving  them  only  nine  hours  out  of  the  twenty- 
four  for  eating,  sleeping,  feeding  their  children,  and  the  waking 
rest  necessary  to  working  people.     He  never  whips  them  on  a 
week  day,  because  it  wastes  working  time,  but  makes  Sunday 
a  general  flogging  season.    He  has  two  women  where  he  has  one 
man,  and  each  woman  is  expected  to  bear  a  child  every  second 
year.    If  she  doesn't,  she  is  sold.    They  are  made  to  work  in  the 
field  till  the  labor  pains   are  on  them,   and  are  allowed  only 
two  weeks'  rest  after  confinement.     Three  of  them  have  borne 
children  in  the  woods,  this  season.     He  keeps  only  one  nurse 
for  the  fifteen  children  ;  and  as  soon  as  each  child  is  five  years 
old— the  age  at  whch  it  can  be  legally  sold  away  from  its 
mother— it  is  disposed  of  to  the  traders.     In  addition,  three  of 
these  women  are  his  mistresses,  and  they  must  have  children 
as  fast  as  the  others.     He  serves  their  children  like  the  rest ; 
that  is,  rears  them  to  the  age  of  five,  and  then  sells  them,  as 
he  would  so  manv  hoar?." 

"  My  God  !  "  I  exclaimed  ;  «  he's  a  monster."' 
11  There  are  different  opinions  about  that.  Dawsey  passes 
for  a  jovial,  good  fellow  ;  keeps  open  house  for  his  friends  ; 
spends  money  freely  at  the  elections,  and,  two  years  ago, 
1  got  religion '  at  the  camp  meeting.  He  merely  regards  his 
slaves  as  chattels,  and  mannges  his  plantation  in  perhaps 
the  only  way  that  is  profitable  in  an  old  section  of  country 
like  this." 

6 


122  MY     SOUTHERN     FKIEXDS. 

"  And  how  is  it  with  you  ?  How  do  you  manage  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  Leff  me  tell,  massa  Robert,"  said  the  black.  "  I  knows 
all  de  'ticulars  'bout  dat." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Preston,  laughing. 

"  We  hab,"  continued  the  black,  "  countin'  me  in,  a  hun- 
dred an'  fifty-one  darkies,  all  in  fam'lies — faders,  mudders,  chil- 
'ren,  an'  some  on  'em  gran'faders  an'  gran'mudders  ;  'most  all 
born  on  de  plantation,  an'  some  on  'em  libin'  on  it  fur  forty, 
fifty,  sixty,  an'  seventy  yar.  Out  ob  dese,  we  hab  only  firty- 
six  full  hands,  'case  some  ob  de  wimmin  dat  come  in  de  ages 
fur  full  wuck  am  sickly,  puny  tings,  only  fit  fur  house  wuck  or 
nussin'.  From  de  whole,  I  gits  equal  ter  'bout  fifty  full  hands. 
'Cordin'  to  massa  Robert's  direction,  I  gib  'em  easy  ten-hour 
wuck  ;  but  sufim'  or  oder  turn  up  'most  ebery  day,  so  dat  'bout 
haff  on  'em  don't  do  full  wuck,  an'  I  reckon  dey  don't  make, 
on  de  whole,  more'n  'bout  nine  hour  a  day.  So  you  see,  Cun- 
nel  Dawsey,  he  hab  sixty,  an'  he  wuck  'em  fifteen  hour  a  day  ; 
we  hab  only  fifty,  an'  we  wuck  'em  nine  hour  a  day ;  an', 
'cordin'  ter  my  'rithmetic,  dat  would  make  de  Cunnel  turn  out 
'bout  twice  as  much  truck  as  we  does." 

"  And  you  have  twice  as  many  mouths  to  feed  as  he,"  I 
remarked  ;   "  and  the  result  is,  he  makes  money,  while  you " 

"  Lose  nigh  onter  two  thousand  a  yar,  Mr.  Kirke,  an'  hab 
done  it  ebery  yar  fur  five  yar,  eber  since  massa  Robert  come 
on  ter  de  plantation,  an'  gwo  ter  workin'  on  human  principles, 
as  he  call  'em." 

This  was  said  in  so  sad  and  regretful  a  tone,  that,  in  spite 
of  the  serious  manner  of  both  the  black  and  his  master,  I 
could  not  help  laughing. 


PLANTATION     MANAGEMENT.  123 

"Joe,"  said  I,  "  what  would  you  do  to  mend  this  state  of 
affairs?" 

u  It  can't  be  mended,  ef  we  stay  in  dis  ole  country,  an' 
wuck  'cordin'  ter  massa  Robert's  notion." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  say  you  can't  apply  humane  principles 
to  slave  labor,  in  an  old  district,  and  make  money  ?  " 

u  Yes,"  said  Preston,  rising,  and  pacing  up  and  down  in  the 
small  semicircle  formed  by  the  rosin  barrels ;  u  that  is  what  he 
means  to  say,  and  it  is  true." 

"  Then  how  do  the  majority  of  turpentine  planters  in  this 
section  make  money  ?     They  do  make  it,  that  is  certain." 

"  By  overworking  their  hands,  as  Dawsey  does.  All  may 
not  be  as  severe  with  them  as  he  is,  but  all  overwork  themr 
more  or  less,"  replied  Preston. 

"I  don't  know  'bout  dat,  massa  Robert;  twelve,  an'  eben 
firteen  hour  a  day  neber  hurt  a  prime  hand,  ef  he  hab  good 
feed." 

"  Well,  it  is  six  o'clock,  and  supper  must  be  in  waiting," 
said  Preston,  drawing  out  his  watch  ;  "  we'll  talk  more  on  this 
subject  to-night.  Joe,  bring  the  books  up  to  the  house  thifl 
evening.  Mr.  Kirke  has  promised  to  look  into  our  affairs,  and 
I  shall  need  you." 

"Yas,  massa  Robert,"  replied  the  black;  and,  mounting 
our  horses,  Preston  and  I  rode  back  to  the  mansion. 


CHAPTEK    X. 


A      SOUTHERN      WOMAN 


Mrs.  Preston  and  master  Joe  were  on  the  piazza  awaiting 
us,  and,  in  the  doorway,  we  were  met  by  the  younger  children. 
Preston  lifted  one  of  them  upon  his  shoulder,  and,  taking  an- 
other in  his  arms,  led  the  way  to  the  supper  room.  However 
disturbed  might  be  my  friend's  relations  with  the  outer  world, 
all  was  peace  by  his  cheerful  fireside.  No  man  was  ever  more 
blessed  in  his  home.  His  children  were  intelligent,  loving,  and 
obedient ;  his  wife  was  one  of  those  rare  women — seen  no- 
where more  often  than  in  the  South — who,  to  a  cultivated  mind 
and  polished  manners,  add  the  more  homely  accomplishments 
of  a  good  housewife.  It  is  years  since  she  laid  aside  the  weary 
cares  of  her  plantation  home,  and  entered  on  the  higher  duties 
of  another  life  ;  but  her  kindly  image  is  still  as  fresh  in  my 
memory  as  on  that  autumn  day,  when  she  placed  her  hand  in 
mine  for  the  last  time,  and  spoke  the  last  "God  bless  you "  which 
I  was  to  hear  from  her  lips  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  She  was 
a  perfect  woman — a  faithful  mistress,  a  loving  wife,  a  devoted 
mother.  Anticipating  every  want  of  her  husband,  carefully 
instructing  her  children,  overseeing  every  detail  of  her  house- 
hold, meting  out  the  weekly  allowance  of  the  negroes,  visiting 


A     SOUTHERN      WOMAN.  125 

daily  the  cabins  of  the  sick  and  the  infirm,  and  with  her  own 
hand  dispensing  the  soothing  cordial  or  the  healing  medicine, — 
or.  when  all  medicine  failed,  bending  over  the  lowly  bed  of  the 
dying,  and  pointing  him  to  the  "  better  home  on  high," — she 
was  a  ministering  angel — a  joy  and  a  blessing  to  all  about  her. 
She  wore  no  costly  silk.-,  no  diamonds  on  her  fingers,  or  jewels 
in  her  hair;  but  she  was  arrayed  in  garments  all  rich  and  beau- 
tiful with  human  love.  She  knew  nothing — thought  nothing — 
about  the  right  or  the  wrung  of  slavery;  but,  cheerfully  and 
prayerfully,  never  wearying  and  never  doubting,  she  went  on 
in  the  round  of  duties  allotted  her,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the 
Good  All-Father,  and  looking  steadfastly  to  Him  for  guid- 
ance and  support.  And,  truly,  she  had  her  reward.  "Her 
children  rose  up  and  called  her  blessed  ;  her  husband,  also,  and 
he  praised  her." 

Supper  was  soon  over,  when  my  hostess  rose,  and  con- 
ducted me  to  the  library.  That  apartment  was  in  a  wing 
communicating  with  the  mansion  by  a  covered  passage  way 
It  was  plainly  furnished,  but  had  a  cosy,  homelike  appear- 
ance. Its  four  walls  were  lined  with  books,  some  stand- 
ing on  end,  some  resting  on  their  sides,  and  some  leaning 
negligently  against  each  other  ;  and  on  the  massive  cen- 
tre table,  open  volumes,  old  newspapers,  and  unfinished 
manuscripts  were  littered,  in  most  delightful  confusion.  A 
half  dozen  old-fashioned  chairs  straggled  about  the  floor, 
as  if  they  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  do  with  them- 
selves, and  a  score  of  old  worthies,  their  faces  white  as  chalk, 
and  their  long  hair  and  beards  powdered  with  a  whole  genera- 
tion of  dust,  looked  complacently  down  from  the  top  of  the 
bookshelves.     Dust  was  on  the  table,   on  the  chair.-,   on   the 


126  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

floor,  on  the  ceiling,  and  on  the  musty  old  volumes  ranged 
along  the  walls,  and  dust  everywhere  told  unmistakably  that  no 
profane  hand  ever  disturbed  the  dusty  repose  which  reigned  in 
the  apartment. 

Two  or  three  oaken  logs,  supported  on  bright  brass  and- 
irons— the  only  bright  things  in  the  room — were  blazing  cheer- 
fully on  the  broad  hearthstone ;  and,  drawing  our  chairs  near, 
we  sat  down  before  them. 

11  May  I  come  in  ?  "  said  master  Joe,  thrusting  his  head  in 
at  the  half- closed  doorway. 

"  No.  my  son,"  answered  his  father ;  "  Mr.  Kirke  and  I  are 
to  talk  over  business  matters." 

"  Do  let  him  come,  Robert,"  said  Mrs.  Preston  ;  "  he  is  old 
enough  to  learn  something  of  such  affairs." 

The  lad  entered,  and,  seating  himself  on  a  low  stool  by  the 
side  of  his  mother,  and  burying  his  head  in  her  lap,  was  soon 
fast  asleep. 

"  This  room,  Mr.  Kirke,"  said  the  lady,  "  is  sacred  to 
Robert  and  the  dust.  I  beg  you  will  not  think  I  have  the  care 
of  it." 

"  Oh  no.  madam ;  it  is  plain  that  a  man  has  exclusive 
dominion  here.  But  your  husband  has  been  away  for  some 
time." 

"  That  does  not  account  for  the  dust ;  it  hasn't  been  stirred 
for  a  twelvemonth  ; "  and,  after  a  pause,  she  added,  a  thin 
moisture  glistening  in  her  eyes,  "  I  have  not  yet  thanked  you, 
sir,  for  saving  Phyllis  and  the  children  from  the  clutches  of  that 
wretched  trader." 

"  No  thanks  are  requisite,  madam.  It  was  a  mere  matter 
of  business ,  we  are  in  the  practice  of  making  advances  to  our 
consignors." 


A     SOUTHERN     WOMAN.  127 

"  Nevertheless  we  thank  you,  sir ;  Robert  and  I  will  ever 
be  grateful  for  it." 

M  Do  not  speak  of  it,  madam  ;  I  would  be  glad  to  serve 
you  to  a  much  greater  extent." 

The  lady  made  no  reply,  and  a  rather  embarrassing  silence 
followed  for  some  minutes,  when  I  said : 

'•  Preston,  Joe  is  a  remarkable  negro ;  I  think  I  never  met 
one  so  intelligent  and  well  informed." 

"  He  is  very  intelligent,"  he  replied  ;  "  he  has  fine  natural 
abilities." 

"It  is  a  pity  Nature  gave  him  so  dark  a  skin,  and  made 
him  a — slave." 

"  Not  a  pity,  Mr.  Kirke,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Preston ;  "  Na- 
ture, or  rather  God,  always  puts  us  in  our  right  places.  Jo- 
seph is  more  useful  where  he  is,  than  he  would  be  anywhere 
else." 

"  I  understood  him  that  he  was  raised  on  the  plantation," 
I  added. 

11  Yes,"  replied  my  host ;  "  my  grandfather  bought  his 
mother  when  she  was  a  girl.  She  was  a  favorite  house-ser- 
vant, and  Joe  was  born  in  a  room  over  where  we  are  sitting. 
This  building  was  then  all  there  was  of  the  mansion." 

11  And  how  did  he  pick  up  so  much  information  ?  " 

"  The  old  gentleman,  who  gave  little  heed  to  either  law  or 
gospel,  taught  them  both  to  read  and  write."  [Years  after  the 
date  of  this  conversation,  I  learned  that  Joe  was  the  son  of 
.that  lawless,  graceless  old  gentleman.]  "  A.nd  Joe,  when  a 
boy,  read  everything  he  could  lay  his  hands  on.  Since  I 
Lave  brought  my  library  here,  he  has  devoured  about  half 
of  the  books  in  it.  He  devotes  every  night,  from  eight 
o'clock  to  twelve,  to  reading." 


128  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIENDS. 

"  I  am  surprised,  that,  with  so  much  reading,  he  uses  so 
entirely  the  negro  dialect." 

u  But  he  does  not.  In  common  conversation  he  expresses 
himself  in  it,  for  it  is  the  dialect  in  which  a  black  does  his  ordi- 
nary thinking ;  but  let  him  get  upon  an  elevated  subject,  as  he 
frequently  does  in  his  sermons,  and  you  will  hear  words  as 
strong,  pare,  and  simple  as  any  found  in  the  Bible,  flow  from 
him  like  a  stream." 

"  Does  he  preach  every  Sunday  ?  " 

11  Yes ;  I  usually  catechize  the  people  in  the  evening,  and 
he  preaches  in  the  morning." 

11  But  do  you  learn  all  your  negroes  to  read  ?  " 

11  No,  the  law  does  not  allow  it.  I  teach  them  to  repeat 
the  catechism,  texts  of  Scripture,  and  passages  from  good 
books,  and  I  explain  these  to  them." 

11  And  Joe  is  your  overseer  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly  that.  My  father  made  him  overseer  about 
thirty  years  ago,  but  the  law  requires  a  white  man  in  that  situ- 
ation ;  and  when  I  took  charge  of  the  plantation,  the  neigh- 
bors made  a  clamor  about  my  having  a  black.  The  result  was, 
I  'whipped  the  devil  round  the  stump,'  by  hiring  a  white  dis- 
tiller, and  calling  him  '  overseer.'  I  let  Joe,  however,  '  over- 
see' him,  as  you  have  seen  to-day." 

A  rap  came  then  at  the  door,  and  master  Joe,  waking  up, 
ushered  the  subject  of  our  conversation  into  the  room.  He 
held  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  had  under  his  arm  a  couple  of 
account  books. 

"  This  is  Joseph  the  First,"  said  the  lad,  taking  the  black 
by  the  coat-tail,  and  bowing  gravely  to  me. 

M  And  you  are  Joseph  the  Second,  I  suppose  ?  " 


A     SOUTHERN     WOMAN.  129 

"  Yas,  sar ;  he'm  dat  *stinguished  gemman,"  replied  the 
negro,  stroking  affectionately  the  lad's  head ;  "  an'  he  don't  dis- 
honor de  name,  sar.     He'm  de  true  blue,  dyed  in  de  wool." 

"  Bring  up  a  chair,  Joseph,"  said  the  lady,  smiling  kindly 
on  the  black. 

"  Tank  you,  missus ; "  and  the  negro  seated  himself  by  the 
fire,  between  Preston  and  me. 

"  You  have  brought  the  documents,  I  see,  Joe  ;  let  me  look 
at  them,"  I  said,  reaching  out  my  hand  for  the  books. 

"  Yas,  sar ;  an'  dey'm  all  written  up  ter  a  week  back.  I 
reckon  you  kin  pick  'em  out,  Mr.  Kirke,  dough  massa  Robert 
he  say  he  don't  understand  my  way  ob  keepin'  em." 

I  opened  the  books,  and  any  man  of  business  will  appreciate 
my  surprise  to  find  they  were  kept  by  "double  entry."  Cot- 
ton, corn,  and  turpentine  had  each  its  separate  account,  and  at 
a  glance  I  could  see  how  much  had  been  made  or  lost  in  the 
production  of  each  staple.  The  handwriting  was  plain  and 
bold,  and  the  general  appearance  of  the  ledger  compared  favor- 
ably with  that  of  a  much  larger  one  I  knew  of,  which  was  the 
pride  of  an  experienced  bookkeeper. 

14  Why,  Joe,  I'm  astonished  !  "  I  exclaimed,  with  unaffected 
gratification  ;   "  you  write  like  a  schoolmaster." 

A  flush,  which  would  have  been  a  blush  on  a  lighter  skin, 
overspread  the  negro's  face,  as  he  replied : 

"  I  don't  hab  practice  'nuff,  Mr.  Kirke,  ter  write  bery 
well." 

"  Practice  !  "  said  Preston  ;  "he  has  constant  practice  ;  he 
writes  the  love  letters  of  all  the  darkies  in  the  district." 

"  It  am  so,  dat's  a  fac',  sar,"  said  Joe,  a  quiet  humor  twink- 
ling in  his  eye.     "  One  ob  Cunnel  Dawsey's  folk  come  ter  me 
G* 


130  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

ter  day — his  wife  hab  been  sold  down  Soufh,  an'  he  wanted 
ter  say  ter  har,  dat  dough  ribers  rose,  an'  mountins  run  atween 
'em,  he'd  neber  hab  nuffin'  ter  do  wid  no  oder  'ooman — so  he 
comes  ter  me,  an'  I  writes  de  letter ;  an'  when  I'd  a  put  in  all 
de  ribers,  an'  de  mountins,  an'  eber  so  many  runs,  an'  tought 
I'd  done  it  up  right  smart,  I  read  it  ober  ter  him,  but  he  say  he 
sort  ob  reckoned  it  warn't  quite  done  up  'pletely — not  'xactly 
'eluded ;  so  he  'sisted  I  muss  'sert  a  pose  scrip,  axin'  har  ter 
'scuse  de  bad  writin'." 

"And  you  did  it?" 

"  Yas,  sar,  I  done  it." 

"  Well,  Joe,  the  important  thing  just  now  is,  how  much 
you  owe.  Give  me  a  slip  of  paper,  and  let  me  put  these  bal- 
ances together." 

"  I'se  done  dat,  Mr.  Kirke ;  here  dey  am,"  and  he  handed 
me  a  correctly  drawn-up  statement,  showing  Preston's  exact 
liabilities.  I  glanced  over  it,  compared  it  with  the  footings  in 
the  ledger,  and  said  : 

"  I  see  by  this,  Preston,  that  you  owe  seventeen  hundred 
dollars,  floating  debt ;  twelve  hundred  dollars,  interest  on  your 
mortgage ;  and  are  overdrawn  five  hundred  dollars  on  our 
house." 

"  Yes,  so  Joe  makes  it,  and  I  reckon  he's  correct." 

"  But  dar'm  de  six  hunderd  you  'cepted  fur  massa  Robert, 
de  oder  day,  in  Xewbern  ;  dat  ain't  counted  in,"  said  Joe. 

11  "Well,  all  told,  it's  four  thousand,  besides  the  note  I  have 
given  for  Phyllis.  What  do  you  calculate  on  to  pay  it, 
Preston  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     How  can  we  pay  it,  Joe  ?  " 

"  We  moight  sell  de  two  stills,  an'  some  ob  de  hosses ;  I 


A     SOUTHERN     WOMAN.  131 

reckon  dey'd  be  'nuff/'  replied  the  black  ;  "but  de  raal  trubble, 
massa  Robert,  am  what's  comin' ;  we'm  gwine  ahind  ebery 
day,  'case  we  lose  money  on  ebery  crop  ob  turpentine.  Nuftin' 
p-jy  now  but  de  corn  an'  de  cotton,  an'  we  don*t  raise  'nuff  ob 
deni  ter  do  no  good." 

I  turned  to  the  ledger,  and  found  it  showed  what  the 
black  said  to  be  true — corn  and  cotton  had  made  a  handsome 
profit,  but  turpentine  had  "  paid  a  loss." 

"  That  is  because  your  trees  are  old,  and  now  yield  little  of 
anything  but  scrape,"  *  I  said. 

"  Yas,  sar ;  an'  'case  dey  am  so  thin  like,  sence  we  clean 
out  de  pore  ones,  dat  it  take  a  hand  long  time  ter  git  'round 
'mong  'em." 

""  Why  not  drop  turpentine,  and  cut  shingles  from  the 
swamp  ?     You've  a  fortune  in  those  cypress  trees." 

"  My  negroes  are  not  accustomed  to  swamp  work — it 
would  kill  them,"  replied  Preston. 

"Mr.  Kirke,"  said  Joe, — "you'll  take  no  'fence,  massa 
Robert,  ef  I  says  dis  ?  " 

"  No  ;  go  on,"  said  his  master. 

"  De  ting  am  right  in  a  nutshell,  an'  jess  so  clar  as  apple 
jack :  we  owes  a  heap  ;  we'se  gittin'  inter  debt  deeper  an' 
deeper  ebery  yar ;  we  lose  money  workin'  de  ole  trees  ;  we 
hain't  got  no  new  ones ;  an'  dar's  no  use  ter  talk  ;  massa 
Robert  won't  put  de  hands  inter  de  swamp.  "What,  den,  shill 
we  do  ?  " 


*  'Scrape'  is  the  turpentine  gathered  from  the  fW  of  the  pine.  On  old  trees, 
the  yearly  incision  is  made  high  above  the  boxes,  and  the  sap,  in  flowing  down, 
passes  over  and  adheres  to  the  previously  scarified  surface.  It  is  thus  exr 
the  sun,  which  evaporates  the  more  volatile  and  valuable  portion,  and  leave-  only 
the  hard,  which,  when  manufactured,  is  mostly  rosin.  "  Scrape"  turpentine  is 
only  about  half  as  valuable  as  "  dip." 


132  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

Avoiding  the  darky's  question,  I  said :  "  I  never  before 
understood  why  slavery  is  so  clamorous  for  new  fields.  I  see, 
now — it  can  draw  support  only  from  the  virgin  soil.  It  ex- 
hausts an  old  country.  Like  the  locusts  of  Egypt,  it  eats  up 
the  very  face  of  the  earth  !  " 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  Preston  ;  "  but  Joe  has  stated  the 
case  correctly.     What  shall  we  do?" 

"  One  of  two  things :  sell  your  plantation  and  negroes,  or 
take  your  hands  to  a  new  section,  where  you  can  raise  virgin 
turpentine.*'* 

"  I  cannot  sell  my  negroes — they  were  all  raised  with  me  ; 
and  the  plantation — it  was  my  ancestors',  over  a  hundred  years 
ago.  I  would  move  my  hands  to  a  new  section,  but  I  have 
not  the  means  to  buy  land." 

M  Ay,  dar's  de  rub,"  said  Joe. 

"  If  you  could  satisfy  your  outside  creditors  that  things 
were  likely  to  go  better  with  you  in  future,  could  you  put  them 
off  for  a  time  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  reckon  I  could — nearly  all  of  them,"  replied  Preston. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  make  you  a  proposition.  Buy  ten  thou- 
sand acres  on  the  line  of  the  Manchester  railroad.  It  is  fin- 
ished to  Whitesville,  and  you  can  buy  land  within  twenty  miles 
of  that  station,  at  seventy-five  cents  an  acre.  We'll  advance 
the  twenty  per  cent,  you'll  have  to  pay  down,  and  five  hundred 
dollars  more  to  start  you  there,  and  hold  the  deed  of  the  land 
to  secure  us.  Ship  your  produce  to  us,  and  agree  to  forfeit  the 
land,  if,  at  the  end  of  three  years,  you  have  not  paid  all  the 
original  advance.  Move  your  stills,  and  your  able-bodied  men 
and  women  there,  leaving  the  old  and  the  young  negroes  here 

*  "  Virgin  "  turpentine  ie  twice  as  valuable  as  "  dip." 


A      SOUTHERN      WOMAN.  133 

to  raise  corn  and  cotton.  Hire  fifty  more  prime  hands,  and  put 
Joe  over  the  whole,  with  unlimited  power  to  work  them  to 
death,  if  he  pleases." 

Preston  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand,  as  if  bewildered — he 
seemed  not  to  understand  me  ;  but  Joe's  face  lighted  as  if  a 
stream  of  electricity  were  playing  under  his  dark  skin.  Mrs. 
Preston  was  the  first  to  speak. 

u  Robert  will  do  it,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  and  how  can  we  ever  thank 
you  enough  for  your  generous  conduct  toward  us  ?  You  have 
taken  a  weary  load  off  our  hearts." 

"  It  is  a  simple  business  transaction,  madam ;  I  expect  to 
make  money  by  it.  Your  husband  is  to  consign  his  produce 
to  us,  and  I  shall  require  the  forfeit  of  the  land  and  the  im- 
provements, if  he  does  not  pay  our  advances  within  three 
years." 

M  We  kin  pay  'em  in  one  yar,  an'  you  knows  it,  sar  ! "  ex- 
claimed Joe,  springing  to  his  feet,  and  almost  dancing  around 
the  room.  "  Come,  massa  Robert,  look  up,  an'  tell  'im  we'll 
do  it,  fur  ole  Joe'll  make  de  chips  fly  as  you  neber  seed 
afore." 

Preston  looked  up,  as  he  said  :   "  My  friend,  I  thank  you." 

"  You  need  not  say  that ;  only  buy  the  land,  and  make  Joe 
autocrat  of  the  new  plantation,  and  your  bacon  is  cured." 

"  Joe'll  show  you  how  bacon  am  cured,  Mr.  Kirke ;  an' 
he'll  name  his  fuss  boy  af 'er  you,  shore  !  "  shouted  the  black, 
grinning  all  over. 

"  He  can  safely  promise  that,"  said  the  lady,  laughing 
through  her  tears ;  "  for  Aggy  is  fifty,  and  never  had  a 
child." 

A  half-hours  conversation  over  the  details  of  the  proposed 


134  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

arrangement  followed ;  then  Joe  rose,  and,  taking  the  ac- 
count books  under  his  arm,  bade  us  "  good  eveninV  As 
he  was  leaving  the  room,  I  asked :  "  Do  you  preach  to- 
morrow ?  " 

M  Yas,  sar ;  an'  I'se  gwine  home  ter  study  ober  de  sermon. 
You'll  come  dar,  sar  ?  You  won't  yere  no  raal  preachin',  'less 
massa  Robert  feels  de  sperrit  move,  fur  de  Lord  don't  gib  de 
brack  man  de  tongue  He  gib  de  white." 

u  I'm  not  sure  of  that ;  but  I'll  be  there.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night,  sar,  an'  de  Lord  bless  you." 

When  he  had  gone,  I  said  to  Preston :  "  You  have  admit- 
ted me  to  your  confidence,  and  asked  my  advice ;  therefore, 
I  think  you'll  pardon  me,  if  I  make  you  a  few  business  sug- 
gestions." 

"  Most  certainly  ;  and  I  shall  be  guided  by  them." 

"  With  a  hundred  hands  in  those  thick  woods,  Joe  will 
turn  out  a  vast  amount  of  produce.  His  ambition  is  excited 
with  the  idea  of  being  his  own  master,  and  he  will  coin  money 
for  you ;  but  you  need  to  be  prudent.  You  owe  a  mortgage 
of  twenty  thousand  dollars — and  mortgage  debts  are  the  worst 
in  the  world.  Your  plantation  and  negroes  may  be  worth 
three  times  the  amount,  but  they  are  in  jeopardy  so  long  as 
it  exists.  If  it  were  called  in  suddenly,  you  couldn't  pay 
it;  your  property  would  be  sacrificed — everything  might  be 
lost.  Now  I  would  suggest  that  you  sell,  at  once,  your  three 
hundred  acres  of  swamp  land,  all  your  surplus  live  stock  and 
materials,  and  appropriate  the  proceeds  to  paying  your  floating 
debt,  and  reducing  the  mortgage." 

"  And  we  might  reduce  our  family  expenses,  Robert,"  said 
his  wife  ;   "  we  have  too  many  house-servants.     We  could  hire 


A     SOUTHERN     WOMAN.  135 

out  five  or  six  of  them  in  Newbera.  And  Joseph's  schooling 
costs  us  five  hundred  dollars  a  year ;  he  might  come  home — / 
could  teach  him." 

"  You  would  take  too  much  on  yourself,  Lucy,"  replied  her 
husband.  "  You  are  not  strong,  and  you  can't  spare  a  single 
servant." 

"  How  many  have  you  ?  "  I  asked. 

11  Nine,"  said  Preston. 

"  For  a  family  of  two  adults  and  three  children  ? ' 

"  It  strikes  you  as  too  many,  Mr.  Kirke,"  said  the  lady, 
"  and  it  is.  It  is  our  Southern  way  ;  but  every  additional  ser- 
vant makes  additional  work  for  the  mistress." 

"  I  think  you  are  right,  madam,"  I  replied.  "  A  Northern 
lady  that  you  know  of,  takes  care  of  me,  Frank,  the  two  young 
children,  and  a  large  house,  with  only  two  servants  and  an 
errand  boy;  and  she  never  has  anything  to  do  after  two 
o'clock." 

11  But  you  have  the  Irish  ;  they  are  better  house-servants 
than  our  blacks ;  and  you  can  discharge  them,  if  they  won't 
work,"  said  Preston. 

"  I  would  rather  have  Phyllis,  than  any  servant  I  ever  saw 
at  the  North,  With  her,  the  cook,  and  one  more,  I  will  prom- 
ise to  get  on  beautifully,"  remarked  his  wife. 

Preston's  voice  quivered,  as  he  replied :  "  Do  as  you 
think  best." 

M  But,  madam,"  I  said,  "  I  think  you  are  really  taking  too 
much  on  yourself;  the  care  of  the  children  will  be  a  great  tax 
on  your  strength.  "Would  it  not  be  better  to  employ  a  gov- 
erness to  instruct  them  ?  What  is  now  expended  on  Joe, 
would  pay  a  competent  person." 


136  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Joe  ? "  asked  his  father ; 
"  would  you  like  to  come  home,  aud  have  a  woman  teacher  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  do  what  mother  wants  me  to,"  said  the  lad, 
putting  his  arms  about  her  neck,  and  kissing  her. 

"  You're  a  good  boy,  Joe,"  said  his  mother. 

"  But  you'll  let  me  keep  the  pony,  won't  you,  father  ? " 
said  the  lad. 

"  Yes,  my  son  ;  and  if  you  learn  well,  you  shall  go  with 
uncle  James  when  you're  fifteen." 

Shortly  afterward,  we  separated  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER    XI. 


THK      KEGRO      MEETING. 


On  a  gentle  knoll,  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  negro 
quarters,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  grove  of  pines,  whose  soft  \f 
brown  tassels  covered  the  ground  all  around  it,  stood  the  negro 
meeting  house.  It  was  built  of  unhewn  logs,  its  crevices 
chinked  with  clay,  and  was  large  enough  to  seat  about  two 
hundred  persons.  Though  its  exterior  resembled  a  backwoods 
barn,  its  interior  had  a  neat  and  tasteful  appearance.  Ever- 
green boughs  hid  its  rough  beams  and  bare  shingled  roof,  and 
long  wreaths  of  pine  leaves  hung  in  graceful  festoons  from  its 
naked  walls  and  narrow  windows.  On  the  two  sides  of  a  wide 
aisle,  which  served  to  separate  the  sheep  on  the  right  hand 
from  the  goats  on  the  left,  were  long  rows  of  benches,  with 
hard  board  bottoms,  and  rough,  open  backs ;  and  beyond  them, 
divided  from  the  rest  of  the  interior  by  a  rustic  railing,  was  the 
"  family  pew  " — an  enclosure  about  twelve  feet  square,  neatly 
carpeted,  and  furnished  with  half  a  dozen  arm  chairs.  Oppo- 
site to  this  was  a  platform  elevated  three  steps  from  the  floor, 
and  on  it  stood  a  rustic  settee,  a  large  easy  chair,  and  a  modest 
desk  covered  with  green  baize,  and  decorated  with  small  sprigs 
of  evergreen.     On  this  desk  rested  a  large  Bible. 

The  enormous  seashell  which  served  as  a  bell  to  this  u  house 


138  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

of  prayer,"  was  sending  its  last  blast  in  long  echoes  through 
the  old  trees,  when,  with  Mrs.  Preston  and  the  children,  I 
elbowed  an  opening  through  the  thick  group  of  grinning  Afri- 
cans that  blocked  the  doorway,  and  worked  a  passage  down 
the  crowded  aisle  to  the  family  enclosure.  Seating  myself  in 
one  of  its  cane-bottomed  chairs,  I  glanced  around  on  the  assem- 
blage. Such  a  gathering  of  woolly  heads  I  had  never  seen. 
Every  plantation  within  a  circuit  of  five  miles  had  sent  in  a 
representation,  till  the  benches,  the  aisle,  the  small  area  around 
the  pulpit,  and  the  open  space  near  the  doorway  were  all 
densely  packed.  On  the  left,  the  men,  in  gaudy  cravats  and 
many-colored  waistcoats,  were  chatting  merrily  together,  and 
enjoying  themselves  as  heartily  as  a  parcel  of  Yankees  at  a 
clam-bake ;  and  on  the  right,  the  women,  in  red  and  yellow  tur- 
bans, and  flaming  shawls  and  neckerchiefs,  were  bobbing  about 
and  flaunting  their  colors,  like  so  many  dolphins  sporting  in  the 
sunshine.  Preston  was  seated  in  the  lone  chair  at  the  back  of 
the  pulpit,  and  Boss  Joe  and  Black  Jack  occupied  the  settee 
near  him.  The  latter  shortly  rose  to  open  the  services,  and,  in 
a  moment,  a  deep  silence  fell  on  the  noisy  multitude.  The  old 
preacher  had  carefully  combed  his  thin  wool  into  a  pyramid  on 
the  top  of  his  head,  and  he  looked — dressed  in  glossy  black 
pants,  long-tailed  blue  coat,  ruffled  shirt,  and  high  shirt  collar — 
like  a  stuffed  effigy  at  an  exhibition  of  wax  figures.  Step- 
ping rather  unsteadily  to  the  front  of  the  platform,  he  flourished 
his  red  cotton  bandanna,  and,  spreading  his  huge  claws  over 
the  large  Bible,  said  : 

"  Dear  bred'rin,  leff  us  begin  de  worship  ob  de  Lord,  by 

singin' : 

"  c  From  all  dat  dwell  below  de  skies, 
Leff  de  Creator's  praise  arise.'  " 


THE     NEGRO     MEETING.  139 

A  half  dozen  darky  fiddlers  at  the  left  of  the  pulpit  tuned 
their  strings  and  then  the  whole  assemblage  rose,  and  burst 
into  that  grand  old  hymn.  As  its  last  echoes  came  back 
from  the  old  woods,  and  died  away  among  the  rafters  of  the 
little  church,  Joe  got  up,  and,  opening  the  large  Bible,  read,  in 
a  clear,  mellow  voice,  a  portion  of  the  one  hundred  and  nine- 
teenth Psalm.     Then  the  old  darky  again  came  forward. 

Gazing  complacently  around  on  the  audience  for  a  moment, 
he  drawled  out :  "  My  bred'rin,  leff  us  raise  our  hearts  ter  de 
Lord."  The  whole  congregation  then  kneeled,  and  Jaclc,  clos- 
ing his  eyes,  clenching  his  hands  together,  and  throwing  his 
head  back,  until  his  nose  came  nearly  on  a  line  with  the  roof 
of  the  building,  "  lifted  up  his  voice  "  and  prayed. 

After  the  fashion  of  very  many  white  preachers,  he  began 
by  telling  the  Lord  all  about  Himself;  all  He  had  ever  done, 
and  all  He  is  going  to  do ;  how  long  He  had  lived,  and  how 
long  He  is  going  to  live  ;  how  great  He  is — "  taller  dan  de 
mountins,  an'  bigger  dan  de  seas  ; "  how  He  made  the  world  in 
six  days,  and  then,  "  gitiin'  tired,  rested  on  de  sevenfh  ;"  how 
he  formed  man  out  of  the  dust  of  the  ground,  and  then,  out  of 
his  rib,  formed  woman ;  how  the  woman  tempted  the  man,  and 
he  fell,  and  how  woman  has  raised  Cain  on  the  earth  ever 
since  ;  how  He  sent  the  flood,  and  how  Noah  builded  the  ark ; 
how  Noah  axed  all  the  wild  critters  into  it,  and  how  tlu-y 
all  came  in  two  by  two,  and  how  Noah  and  the  wild  beasts  lay 
down  lovingly  together,  till  the  wet  spell  was  over ;  how 
Moses,  when  he  came  down  from  the  mount,  "  stumbled,  and 
broke  de  law  ;  an'  how  ebery  one  ob  us  dat  hab  come  inter 
de  worle  sence,  hab  stumbled,  an'  broke  de  law,  'case  he  did  ; " 
how  Noah,  though  he  was  a  white  man,  and  had  a  white  wife, 


140  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

begat  a  black  son  ;  and  how  that  black  son  was  a  great  sin- 
ner, and  how  all  his  descendants  have  taken  after  him,  and 
been  mighty  big  sinners  ever  since. 

Then  he  described  the  sinners,  particularly  the  black  sin- 
ners present ;  and  if  half  of  what  he  said  was  true,  every  one 
of  them  deserved  to  be  sold  "  down  Souf  h,"  and  kept  on  cold 
hominy  and  hoecake  all  the  rest  of  his  da  vs. 

The  prayer  was  a  strange  medley  of  absurdity,  presump- 
tion, and  profanity,  and  1  felt  relieved  to  hear  his  long  "amen," 
and  to  see  Joe  rise,  and  again  approach  the  pulpit. 

Requesting  some  one  present  to  raise  a  few  of  the  windows 
(I  took  occasion,  afterward,  to  thank  him  for  that  very  consid- 
erate action),  Joe  opened  the  Bible,  and  said :  "  My  friends, 
1  am  gwine  ter  talk  ter  you  from  de  tex,  '  An'  dey  drew  an' 
lifted  up  Joseph  out  ob  de  pit,  an'  sold  Joseph  to  de  Ishmael- 
ites  fur  twenty  pieces  ob  silver ;  an'  dey  brought  Joseph  inter 
Egypt.' 

11  You  all  knows,"  he  continued,  "  de  story  ob  Joseph  an' 
his  bred'rin ;  how  dey  wus  raised  up  by  dar  fader  Jacob  in  a 
wile  country,  whar  dar  warn't  no  schools,  an'  no  'telligence, 
an'  no  larnin' ;  an'  how  his  fader  lub'd  Joseph  more  dan  all  ob 
his  bred'rin,  an'  made  fur  him  a  coat  ob  many  colors.  But 
p'raps  you  don't  know  dat  de  Lord  lub  Joseph  a  great  sight 
better'n  his  fader  did,  an'  'case  He  lub  him  so,  dat  He  harden 
de  hearts  ob  his  bred'rin  agin  him,  till  dey  sole  him  ter  de 
Ishmaelites — de  slave-traders  ob  dem  days — ter  be  taken  down 
inter  Egypt.  An'  p'raps  you  don't  know  dat  Egypt  wus  a 
great  country,  whar  dar  wus  schools,  an'  churches,  an'  great 
libraries  ob  books,  an'  all  manner  ob  sciences  ;  an'  dat  Joseph 
wus  made  de  lord  ob  all  dat  country,  an'  dat  finarly  he  got  his 


THE     NEGRO     MEETING.  141 

fader,  an'  his  bred'rin,  an'  dar  wifes,  an'  all  dar  little  ones,  ter 
come  down  dar,  an'  stay  ;  whar,  dough  de  tasks  war  some- 
times hard,  an'  dey  had  to  'am  dar  bred  by,de  sweat  ob  dar 
brow,  dey  could  git  knowledge  an'  larnin'.  An'  p'raps,  too, 
vou  don't  know  dat  de  chil'ren  ob  Israel,  who  war  de  chil- 
'ren  ob  Joseph  an'  his  bred'rin,  when  dey'd  stayed  down  dar 
in  Egvpt  de  'pointed  time,  war  taken  by  de  Lord  inter  de 
Ian'  ob  Canaan,  which  wus  a  Ian'  'flowin'  wid  milk  an'  honey;' 
an'  dat  dey  war  gib'n  dat  Ian'  fur  dar  possession.  Now,  my 
friends,"  and  he  paused,  and  looked  around  on  the  congrega- 
tion, "  de  story  ob  Joseph  am  de  story  ob  de  brack  man  :  he 
hab  been  taken  out  ob  de  pit ;  he  hab  been  sole  fur  twenty 
pieces  ob  silver  :  he  hab  been  brought  inter  Egypt,  an',  bress 
de  Lord,  he  am  boun'  fur  de  Ian'  ob  Canaan. 

"  He  hab  been  taken  out  ob  de  pit.  A  pit,  my  friends,  am 
a  dark  place,  whar  de  sun  neber  shine,  an'  de  light  neber 
come ;  an'  Africa,  de  country  whar  our  faders  an'  our  gran'- 
faders  come  from,  am  a  pit  ;  fur  de  darkness  cobers  dat  Ian', 
an'  gross  darkness  de  people  dareof.  Dey  hab  no  does ;  dey 
lib  in  cabins  made  ob  clay,  an'  in  holes  ob  de  groun' ;  dey  kill 
an'  eat  one  anocler,  an'  dey'm  allers  at  war  wid  one  anoder. 
But  de  white  man  he  gwo  dar,  an'  he  buy  'em  fur  twenty 
pieces  ob  silver — dat's  'zactly  de  price — twenty  silver  dollars — 
dey  pay  dat  fur  'em  up  ter  dis  day — dem  pore,  ign'rant  folks 
won't  take  nuffiV  but  silver.  Well,  de  white  man  buy  'em, 
an'  he  fotch  'em  ter  dis  country,  which  am  like  de  Ian'  ob 
Egypt,  full  ob  schools,  ob  churches,  ob  larnin',  an'  ob  all  man- 
ner ob  good  tings.  Shore,  we  hab  ter  wuck  hard  har  ;  some 
ob  us  hab  ter  bear  heaby  burdens,  an'  ter  make  bricks  when 
we  hab  no  straw  ter  make  'em  wid ;    but  we  am  in  de  Ian' 


142  MY     SOUTIIEEK     FRIENDS. 

ob  Egypt,  whar  we  hab  knowledgd  ob  de  Lord  ;  whar  de  gos- 
pil  am  preach  ter  us,  an'  whar  we  kin  fine  out  de  road  ter  de 
Ian'  ob  Canaan.  ^  (Ter  be  shore,  we  karn't  all  larn  out  ob  de 
books;  but  book  larnin'  neber  make  a  man,  nohow.)  Yas,  my 
friends,  yere  we  kin  fine  out  de  road  ter  de  Ian'  ob  Canaan  ; 
an'  do  you  know  what  dat  Ian'  ob  Canaan,  dat'm  waitin'  fur  de 
brack  man,  am  ?  Do  you  s'pose  it  am  a  Ian'  whar  de  days  am 
hot,  an'  de  nights  am  cole ;  whar  we'll  hoe  de  cotton,  an'  gader 
de  turpentine,  an'  cut  de  shingles  in  de  swamp ;  whar  we'll 
wuck  till  we  drap  down  ;  whar  we'll  hunger  an'  furst ;  whar 
de  fever  will  burn  in  our  veins,  an'  de  nager  will  rattle  our 
bones  as  de  corn  am  rattled  in  de  hopper  ?  No,  my  friends ; 
'tain't  no  Ian'  like  dat  I  It  am  de  habitation  on  high,  de  city 
builded  ob  de  Lord,  de  eberlasting  kingdom  founded  by  de 
Eternal  God,  who  made  heaben  an'  'arth,  de  sea,  an'  all  dat  in 
dem  is.  Oh !  tink  ob  dat,  my  friends,  an'  hab  courage.  Tink 
ob  dat  when  you'm  faint  an'  a  weary,  an'  leff  you'  hearts  be 
glad,  an'  you'  souls  rejoice  in  hope.  Fur  dat  Ian'  ain't  'spressly 
fur  de  white  man — it  am  fur  de  brack  man,  too ;  an'  ebery  one 
ob  us,  eben  de  brackest,  kin  git  ter  it  ef  we'll  jess  foller  de 
road — ef  we'll  jess  do  our  duty,  bear  meekly  our  burdens,  an' 
lean  humbly  on  de  arm  ob  de  Lord.  I  knows  it  am  so,  my 
friends — I  knows  it  am  so ;  fur  de  oder  night,  when  de  deep 
sleep  fell  upon  me,  I  dreamed  a  dream.  I  fought  dar  come  ter 
my  cabin,  an'  stood  aside  ob  my  bed,  a  great  white  angel,  wid 
feet  dat  touch  de  'arth,  but  wid  head  dat  reach  unter  de  heab- 
ens.  He  wore  raiment  shinin'  like  silver,  an'  on  his  head  wus 
a  girdle  ob  stars.  His  face  wus  dazzlin'  as  de  sun,  an'  his  eyes 
war  like  flamin'  fire.  He  look  at  me,  an'  he  say :  '  Joseph, 
come  up  hither  ! '     He  reach  out  his  han',  an'  he  lift  me  up — 


THE     M  I  I .  ■  O      MKETING.  14  3 

above  de  'arth — above  de  clouds — above  de  stars — 'way  up  let 
de  high  heabens,  whar  am  <k  Bpemtl  ob  just  men  made  perfect, 
who  hab  been  redeemed  from  among  men,  who  hab  gone  fru 
great  tribulation,  whose  garments  hab  been-  washed  clean  in  de 
blood  ob  de  Lamb!  'Dis,'  he  say,  'am  de  city  ob  de.libin' 
God,  de  heabenly  Jerusalem,  whose  foundations  am  saffomires, 
whose  walls  am  silver,  whose  streets  am  gole,  whose"  housen  am 
jewels  an'  all  precious  stones  !  Yere  de  sun  neber  sets  ;  yere 
de  storm  an'  de  hurricane  neber  come  ;  an'  yere,  Joseph,  am  a 
dwellin'  prepared  fur  you  ;  yere,  ef  you'm  faithful  an'  'bedient, 
you  shill  come,  when  you'  wuck  on  de  'arth  am  ober  I ' " 

The  speaker  had  been  gradually  warming  with  his  subject, 
till  he  uttered  this  last  sentence,  when  his  voice  trembled,  his 
face  glowed,  and  his  upturned  eye  seemed  fixed  on  the  inef- 
fable glories  of  the  land  he  was  describing.  A  stillness  like 
that  of  death  fell  on  the  assemblage,  and  the  simple  blacks, 
hanging  breathlessly  on  his  words,  looked  up  to  where  Joe's 
hand  was  pointing,  as  if  they,  too,  had  caught  the  vision  on 
which  his  eyes  were  gazing.     In  a  moment,  he  continued  : 

"  I  looked  roun',  an'  I  seed  dat  beautiful  city  ;  I  breafed  its 
air ;  I  walked  its  streets  ;  I  hard  its  music — de  neber-endin' 
song  which  its  countless  people  send  up  ter  de  throne  ob  de 
Great  Fader  ;  an'  I  say  ter  de  angel :  '  Do  brack  folks  lib  yere  ? 
Kin  dey  come  ter  dis  beautiful  country  ?  '  An'  he  say  :  '  You 
shill  see.'  Den  he  lead  me  fru  dose  shinin'  streets,  out  inter  de 
open  fiel's,  whar  war  pleasant  pasters,  greener  dan  any  on  de 
'arth,  an'  still  waters,  dat  sparkle  in  de  sun  jess  like  missus' 
diamonds  in  de  light  ob  de  fire."  (I  did  not  know  that  Mrs. 
Preston  wore  diamonds ;  she  certainly  had  not  worn  them  in 
my  presence.)     "He  lead  me  out,  till  we  come  ter  a  great 


144  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

woods,  whar  fountins  war  playin',  an'  birds  war  singin',  an' 
flowers  war  growin',  an'  de  air  wus  full  ob  fragrance  ;  an'  dar 
I  seed  a  great  crowd  ob  people  gadered  togeder,  a  listenin'  ter 
one  dat  wus  a  talkin'  ter  'em.  Dar  wus  Abr'am,  an'  Isaac,  an' 
Jacob  ;  dar  wus  Moses,  an'  Joseph,  an'  Samuel ;  dar  wus  Da- 
vid,* an'  Solomon,  an'  de  prophets  ;  dar  wus  Paul,  an'  John,  an' 
Peter ;  dar  wus  'most  all  de  great  an'  good  men  who  hab  lib'd 
in  de  worle  ;  an'  dar,  too,  right  aside  ob  de  one  dat  wus  a 
speakin',  wus  de  blessed  Saviour,  wid  de  woun'  in  his  ^ide,  an' 
de  print  ob  de  nails  in  his  hands.  An'  who  do  you  tink  wus  a 
talkin',  dar,  ter  all  dem  great  people  ?  Who  do  you  tink 
wus  fought  good  'miff  ter  stan'  by  de  side  ob  de  blessed  Sa- 
viour ?  It  wus  a  brack  man !  It  wus  a  brack  man,  who, 
do\v*n  yere,  had  been  ole,  an'  lame,  an'  blin',  an'  ob  no  account 
— so  no  account,  he  wouldn't  sell  fur  nuffin'.  He  wus  tellin' 
dem  great  folks  ob  de  great  lub  ob  de  Lord  ter  him,  an'  dar 
tears  rolled  down  as  dey  hard  him.  He  tole  'em  how  he  use' 
ter  lib  in  Car'lina^  how  he  wus  a  slave  ;  how  he'd  'most  nuffin' 
ter  eat ;  how  he  wus  wucked  in  de  swamp  ;  how,  'fore  de  sun 
rose,  an'  'way  inter  de  night,  he  use'  ter  stan'  in  de  mud  an'  de 
water,  till  his  bones  war  sore,  his  heart  wus  weary,  his  soul  wus 
faint ;  how  his  massa  flog  him,  'case  he  couldn't  wuck  no  more, 
till  de  blood  run  down  his  back,  an'  it  wus  a  ridged  like  de 
ploughed  groun' ;  how  his  wife  wus  whipped  ter  death  afore  his 
bery  eyes ;  how  his  chil'ren — all  'cept  one — war  sole  'way  from 
him  ;  how  dat  one  'bused  him,  an'  flogged  him,  an'  tormented 
him,  till  he  wus  jess  ready  ter  die  ;  how,  when  his  hair  wus 
white,  his  body  wus  bent,  his  strength  wus  gone,  an'  he  wus 
ole,  an'  lame,  an'  blin',  his  massa  drove  him  'way,  and  make 
him  shirk  fur  himseff ;  how  he  beg  in  de  roads ;  how  he  sleep 


Til  B     N  EG  EO     :•!  BETING .  145 

in  de  woods,  in  de  cole  an'  de  rain,  till  a  good  gemman  take 
him  in,  gib  him  a  bed,  'tend  ter  his  wants,  an'  pray  ober  him 
when  he  dk\  He  tole  'cm  all  dat;  but  he  say,  dat  fru  it  all, 
he  hsb  peace  ;  fru  it  all,  de  Lord  wus  good  ter  him  ;  fru  it  all, 
he  felt  His  lub  in  his  heart ;  fru  it  all,  de  blessed  Redeemer 
wus  wid  him ;  fru  it  all,  he  knowed  dat  mercy  an'  salvation  am 
in  de  heabens !  An'  dey  am  dar  !  Dey  took  him  'way — 
'way  from  de  'arth — 'way  from  his  suff'rin's  an'  his  sorrers 
down  yere,  ter  joy,  an'  peace,  an'  rest  up  dar — up  dar,  whar  all 
great  an'  good  men  call  him  brudder ;  whar  de  Lord  Jehobah 
call  him  son,  an'  whar  de  blessed  Saviour  will  leff  him  stan'  at 
his  right  han',  foreber  an'  eber.  An'  he,  my  friends,  wus  a 
brack  man  !  An'  who  do  you  s'pose  he  wus  ?  Who  do  you 
s'gose  he  wus  ?  " 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  as  he  repeated  the  question,  and 
then,  in  a  slow,  impressive  manner,  continued : 

"  It  wus  ole  Cale — Cunnel  Dawsey's  Cale ;  an'  dat  good 
gemman  dat  take  him  in,  an'  pray  ober  him  when  he  die,  wus 
my  massa.     Yas,  bless  de  Lord,  it, wus  my  massa  !  " 

As  Joe  uttered  these  last  words,  Preston  bowed  his  head, 
his  wife  sobbed  aloud,  and  the  black  people  gave  out  a  low  cry, 
as  sad  as  the  wail  which  their  own  mourners  breathe  over  the 
dead.  Fixing  his  eyes  on  a  tall,  stalwart  negro  in  the  audi- 
ence, the  preacher  continued : 

"  An'  he  wus  you1  fader,  Jake  ! — you'  fader,  who,  when  he 
wus  down  yere,  you  'bused,  an'  persecuted,  an'  treated  like  a 
dog,  but  who,  up  dar,  am  fought  worthy  ter  stan'  at  de  Sa- 
viour's rig-lit  han' !  I  knows  it  wus  him,  fur  I  seed  him,  I 
talked  wid  him,  an'  he  gabe  me  suffin'  ter  tell  you.  Stan'  up, 
now,  an'  yere  what  he  had  ter  saw" 
1 


146  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

The  black  man's  face  assumed  a  dogged  expression.  He 
moved  uneasily  on  his  seat,  but  showed  no  inclination  to  rise. 
In  a  firm,  imperious  tone,  Joe  again  called  out  to  him  : 

"j3tan'  up,  I  say  !  Folks  like  you'  fader  am  now,  don't 
talk  ter  sech  as  you  is  when  dey'm  sittin'  down.  Stan'  up,  or 
m  gib  you  what  Cunnel  Dawsey  neber  gabe  you  in  all  you' 
life." 

The  negro  reluctantly  rose.  Every  eye  was  fixed  upon 
him,  as  Joe  continued : 

"  He  ax  me  ter  say  ter  you,  Jake,  dat  he  lubs  you — lubs 
you  bery  much ;  dat  he  fully  an'  freely  furgibs  you  fur  all  de 
wrong  you  eber  done  him — fur  all  de  tears  an'  de  sorrer  you 
eber  cause  him.  An'  he  say  ter  me  :  '  Tell  Jake  dat  I'se  been 
down  dar,  an'  seed  him.  I'se  seed  how  he  shirk  his  wucl^; 
how  he  'buse  his  wife  an'  chil'ren ;  how  he  hate  his  massa,  an' 
mean  ter  kill  him — (dough  his  massa  am  hard  on  him,  'tain't 
no  'scuse  fur  dat)  ;  how  he  swar,  an'  lie,  an'  steal,  an'  teach  all 
de  oder  brack  folks  ter  do  de  same  ;  how  he'm  no  fought  ob 
his  soul,  no  fought  ob  dyin'„  no  fought  ob  whar  he'm  gwine 
when  de  Lord's  patience  am  clean  done  gone  wid  him.  Tell 
him,  dat  ef  he  gwo  on  dis  way,  he'll  neber  see  his  ole  fader  no 
more ;  neber  see  his  ole  mudder,  an'  his  little  brudders,  who 
am  up  yere,  no  more ;  neber  come  ter  dis  fine  country,  but 
be  shet  out  inter  outer  darkness,  whar  am  weepin',  an'  wailin', 
an'  knashin'  ob  teeth.  Oh  !  tell  him  dis,  an'  'treat  him,  by  all 
his  fader's  keer  fur  him  when  he  wus  a  chile  ;  by  all  his  lub 
fur  him  now ;  by  all  de  goodness  ob  de  Lord,  who  hab  borne 
wid  him  fru  all  dese  long  years,  ter  turn  roun' — tef  turn  roun', 
now,  an'  sot  his  face  toward  dis  blessed  country,  whar  he  kin 
hab  joy  foreber !     Tell  him,  too,   dat  ef  he'll  do  dis,  his  ole 


TUE     NEGRO     MEETING.  147 

faderll  leab  his  happy  home,  an'  come  down  dar  an'  holp  him 
— holp  him  at  his  wuck ;  holp  him  ter  bar  ebery  load;  gib  him 
strength  when  he'm  weak  ;  hole  up  his  feet  when  he'm  weary  ; 
Match  ober  him  day  an'  night,  all  de  time,  till  he'm  ready  ter 
come  up  yere,  an'  lib  wid  de  Saviour  foreber  !     Tell  him—. — " 

Joe  paused,  for  a  wild  cry  echoed  through  the  building,  and 
the  negro  fell  in  strong  convulsions  to  the  floor. 

A  scene  of  indescribable  excitement  and  confusion  fol- 
lowed, during  which  the  black  was  carried  out,  and,  more  dead 
than  alive,  laid  upon  the  ground.  When  quiet  was  somewhat 
restored,  Preston  made  a  short  and  feeling  prayer ;  and  then, 
after  giving  out  a  hymn,  he  dismissed  the  congregation  with 
the  usual  benediction. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BLACK     CLAIRVOYANCE. 

The  afternoon  exercises  at  the  meeting  house  were  con- 
ducted by  Preston,  who  publicly  catechized  the  negroes  very 
much  in  the  manner  that  is  practised  in  Northern  Sunday 
schools.  When  the  services  were  over,  and  the  family  had 
gathered  around  the  supper  table,  I  said  to  him  : 

"  I've  an  idea  of  passing  the  evening  with  Joe  ;  he  has 
invited  me.  "Would  it  be  proper  for  you  and  Mrs.  Preston  to 
go?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  and  we  will.  I  would  like  to  have  you  see  his 
mother.  She  is  a  singular  woman,  and,  if  in  the  mood,  will 
interest  you." 

"  I  think  you  told  me  she  is  a  native  African  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  she  was  brought  from  Africa  when  a  child.  She 
has  a  dim  recollection  of  her  life  there,  and  retains  the  lan- 
guage and  superstitions  of  her  race,"  replied  Preston,  rising 
from  the  table.  "  I  think  you  had  better  go  at  once,  for  she 
retires  early.  Lucy  and  I  will  follow  as  soon  as  we  can." 
****** 

Joe's  cabin  was  located  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  little 
collection  of  negro  houses,  and  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the 
mansion.     It  was  of  logs,   a  story  and  a  half  high,   and  had 


BLACK     CLAIRVOYANCE.  149 

originally  been  only  about  twenty  feet  square.  To  the  primi- 
tive structure,  however,  an  addition  of  the  same  dimensions 
had  been  made,  and,  stretching  for  more  than  forty  feet  along 
the  narrow  bypath  which  separated  the  two  rows  of  negro 
shanties,  it  then  presented  quite  an  imposing  appearance.  A 
second  addition  in  the  rear,  though  it  did  not  increase  its  dig- 
nity in  the  eyes  of  "street"  observers,  added  largely  to  it?  pro- 
portions and  convenience. 

The  various  epochs  in  Joe's  history  were  plainly  written  on 
his  dwelling.  The  original  building  noted  the  time  when,  a 
common  field  hand,  he  married  a  wife,  and  set  up  house- 
keeping; the  front  addition  marked  the  era  when  his  indus- 
try, intelligence,  and  devotion  to  his  master's  interest  raised 
him  above  the  dead  level  of  black  servitude,  and  gave  him  the 
management  of  the  plantation ;  and  the  rear  structure  spoke 
pleasantly  of  a  later  period,  when  old  Deborah,  disabled  by  age 
from  longer  service  at  "  the  great  house,"  and  too  infirm  to 
clamber  up  the  steep  ladder  leading  to  Joe's  attic  bedrooms, 
came  to  doze  away  the  remainder  of  her  days  under  her  son's 
roof. 

The  cabin  was  furnished  with  two  entrance  doors,  and,  sus- 
pecting that  the  one  in  the  older  portion  led  directly  into  the 
kitchen,  I  rapped  lightly  at  the  other.  In  a  moment  it  opened, 
and  Joe  ushered  me  into  the'living  room." 

That  apartment  occupied  the  whole  of  the  newer  front,  and 
had  a  cheerful,  cosy  appearance.  Its  floor  was  covered  with  a 
tidy  rag  carpet,  evidently  of  home  manufacture,  and  its  plas- 
tered walls  were  decorated  with  tasteful  paper,  and  hung  with 
a  variety  of  neatly  framed  engravings.  Opposite  the  doorway 
stood  a  large  mahogany  bureau,  and  over  it,  suspended  from 


150  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

the  ceiling  by  a  leathern  cord,  was  a  curiously  contrived  shelv- 
ing containing  a  score  or  more  of  well-worn  books.  Among 
them  I  noticed  a  small  edition  of  Shakspeare,  Milton's  "Poems," 
Goldsmith's  "England,"  the  six  volumes  of  "Comprehensive 
Commentary,"  Taylor's  "Holy  Living  and  Dying,"  the  "  Pil- 
grim's Progress,"  a  "  United  States  Gazetteer,"  and  a  complete 
set  of  the  theological  writings  of  Swedenborg.  Neat  chintz 
curtains  covered  the  small  windows,  a  number  of  brightly  bur- 
nished brass  candlesticks  Ornamented  a  plain  wooden  mantle 
over  the  broad  fireplace,  and  a  yellow-pine  table,  oiled  and  var- 
nished, on  which  the  "  tea  things  "  were  still  standing,  occupied 
the  centre  of  the  apartment. 

Through  an  open  door,  at  the  right  of  the  bureau,  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  dormitory  of  the  aged  African.  As  on  the 
exterior  of  the  building  Joe  had  written  a  brief  epitome  of  his 
historv,  so  in  that  room  he  had  traced  a  portion  of  his  character. 
Its  comfortable  and  almost  elegant  furnishings  told,  plainer  than 
any  words,  that  he  was  a  devoted  and  affectionate  son.  "With 
its  worn  woolen  carpet,  red  window  hangings,  cosy  lounge,  neat 
centre  table,  and  small  black-walnut  bedstead,  it  might  have 
been  mistaken  for  the  private  apartment  of  a  white  lady  of 
some  pretensions. 

It  was  a  little  after  nightfall  when  I  entered  the  cabin,  but 
a  bright  fire,  blazing  on  the  hearth,  gave  me  a  full  view  of  its 
occupants.  Aggy,  a  tidily  clad,  middle-aged  yellow  woman, 
was  clearing  away  the  supper  table,  and  Joe's  mother  was 
smoking  a  pipe  in  a  large  armchair,  in  the  chimney  corner. 

The  old  negress  wore  a  black  levantine  gown,  open  in 
front,  and  gathered  about  the  waist  by  a  silken  cord ;  a  red  and 
yellow  turban,  from  underneath  which  escaped  a  few  frosted 


BLACK     CLAIRVOYANCE.  151 

locks,  and  a  white  cambric  neckerchief  that  fell  carelessly  over 
her  shoulders,  and  almost  hid  her  withered,  scrawny  neck. 
She  was  upward  of  seventy,  but  so  infirm  that  she  appeared 
nearly  a  hundred.  One  of  her  lean,  skinny  arms,  escaping 
from  the  loose  sleeve  of  her  dress,  rested  on  her  knee  ;  and  her 
bowed,  bony  frame  leaned  against  the  arm  of  her  chair,  as  if 
incapable  of  sitting  upright.  Her  features,  with  the  exception 
of  her  nose,  which  curved  slightly  upward,  were  thin  and  regu- 
lar ;  and  her  eyes  were  large,  deep,  and  densely  black,  and 
seemed  turned  inward,  as  if  gazing  with  a  half-wondering  stare 
at  the  strange  mechanism  which  held  together  her  queer  frame- 
work of  bones  and  gutta  percha. 

I  recognized  her  as  the  old  woman  who  had  greeted  Pres- 
ton so  affectionately  on  our  arrival. 

Turning  to  her,  as  he  tendered  me  a  chair,  Joe  said : 
u  M udder,  dis  am  Mr.  Kirke." 

Making  a  feeble  effort  to  rise,  and  reaching  out  her  trem- 
bling hand,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  just  above  a  whisper : 
"  You'm  welcome  yere,  right  welcome,  sar." 
"  Thank  you,  amity.     Pray  keep  your  seat ;  don't  rise  on 
my  account." 

"  Tank  you,  massa  Kirke,  fur  comin'  yere.  It'm  bery  good 
ob  you.  Ole  nussy  lub  you,  sar;  you'm  so  good  ter  massa 
Robert.     He'm  my  own  chile,  sar  !  " 

This  was  undoubtedly  a  figure  of  speech,  for  the  old 
woman's  skin  was  altogether  too  black  not  to  have  given  a 
trifle  of  its  shading  to  the  complexion  of  her  children.  It  was 
not  only  black,  but  blue  black,  and  of  that  peculiar  hue  which 
is  seen  only  on  the  faces  of  native  Africans. 

Seeing  that  she  had  relinquished  smoking,  I  said  • 


152  Si  Y      SOUTHEKX     FRIENDS. 

"  Never  mind  me,  aunty  ;  I  smoke,  myself,  sometimes." 

"  Tank  you,  sar,"  she  replied,  resuming  her  pipe,  and  re- 
lapsing into  her  previous  position ;  "  ole  wimmin  lub  'backer, 
sar." 

The  low  tone  in  -which  this  was  said,  made  me  conclude 
that  further  conversation  would  be  exhausting  to  her ;  so,  turn- 
ing to  Joe  and  Aggy — the  latter  had  hurried  through  her 
domestic  employments,  and  taken  a  seat  near  the  fire — I  en- 
tered into  a  general  discussion  of  the  old  worthies  that  occu- 
pied Joe's  book  shelves. 

I  found  the  negro  had  taxed  them  for  house  room.  He 
had  levied  on  their  best  thoughts,  and  I  soon  experienced  the 
uneasy  sensation  which  one  feels  when  he  encounters  a  man 
who  can  u  talk  him  dry  "  on  almost  any  subject.  On  the  single 
topic  of  the  business  to  which  I  was  educated,  I  might  have 
displayed — had  it  not  been  Sunday  night — a  greater  amount 
of  information ;  but  in  knowledge  of  every  subject  that  was 
broached,  the  black  was  my  superior. 

The  conversation  had  rambled  on  for  a  full  half  hour,  the 
old  negress  meanwhile  puffing  steadily  away,  and  giving  no 
heed  to  it ;  when  suddenly  her  pipe  dropped  from  her  mouth, 
her  eyes  closed,  her  bent  figure  became  erect,  and  a  quick,  con- 
vulsive shiver  passed  over  her.  Thinking  she  was  about  to  fall 
in  a  fit,  I  exclaimed  : 

"  Joe  !     See — your  mother  !  " 

"  Neber  min',  sar,"  he  quietly  replied  ;  "it'm  nuffin'.  Only 
de  power  am  on  har." 

A  few  more  convulsive  spasms  followed,  when  the  old 
woman's  face  assumed  a  settled  expression ;  and,  swaying  her 
body  back  and  forth  with  a  slow,   steady  motion,  she  com- 


BLACK     CLAIRVOYANCE.  153 

menced  humming  a  low  chant.  Gradually  it  grew  louder,  till 
it  broke  into  a  strange,  wild  song,  filling  the  room,  and  coining 
hack  in  short,  broken  echoes,  from  the  adjoining  apartments. 
Struck  with  astonishment,  I  was  about  to  speak,  when  Joe, 
laying  his  hand  on  my  arm,  said  : 

"  Hush,  sar  !     It  am  de  song  ob  de  kidnap  slave  !  " 

It  was  sung  in  the  African  tongue,  but  I  thought  I  heard, 
as  it  rose  and  fell  in  a  wild,  irregular  cadence,  the  thrilling 
story  of  the  stolen  black;  his  smothered  cries  and  fevered 
moans  in  the  slaver's  hold  ;  the  shriek  of  the  wind,  and  the 
sullen  sound  of  the  surging  waves  breaking  against  the  ac- 
cursed ship  ;  and,  then — as  the  old  negress  rose  and  poured 
forth  quick,  broken  volumes  of  song— the  loud  mirth  of  the 
drunken  crew,  mingled  with  what  seemed  dying  groans,  and 
the  heavy  splash  of  falling  bodies  striking  the  sea. 

As  she  concluded — with  a  firm,  stately  step,  showing  none 
of  her  previous  decrepitude — she  approached  me. 

Seeing  that  I  regarded  her  with  a  look  of  startled  interest, 
Joe  said : 

"  LefF  har  do  what  she  likes,  sar.  She  hab  sumV  ter  say 
ter  you." 

Taking  a  small  bag*  from  her  bosom,  and  placing  it  in  the 
open  front  of  my'  waistcoat,  she  reached  out  her  long,  skele- 
ton arm,  and,  placing  her  hand  on  the  top  of  my  head, 
chanted  a  low  song.  The  words  were  mostly  English,  but 
they  have  passed  from  my  remembrance. 


*  This  was  the  conjnror's  bag  of  the  Africans.  It  is  called  "waiter,"  or  "kun- 
L'.-r,"  by  the  Southern  blacks, and  is  supposed  to  have  the  power  to  charm  away  evil 
spirits,  and  to  do  all  manner  of  miraculously  good  things  for  its  wearer.  Those 
that  I  have  seen  are  harmless  little  affairs,  consisting  only  of  small  pieces  of  rags 
sewed  up  in  coarse  muslin. 

1* 


154  MY      BOVTHSB  N      PE I  ENDS. 

As  she  finished  the  invocation,  she  took  my  hands  in  hers, 
and,  leaning  forward  and  muttering  a  few  low  words,  Beemed 
•trying  to  read  the  story  imprinted  on  my  palms.  Her  eyes 
were  closed,  and,  thinking  she  might  be  troubled  to  see  with- 
out the  use  of  those  organs,  I  looked  inquiringly  at  her  son. 

"  She  doan't  need  eyes,  sar,"  said  Joe,  answering  my 
thought  j   "  she'll  tell  all  'bout  you  widout  dem." 

As  he  said  this,  she  dropped  my  hands,  and,  raising  her 
right  arm,  made  several  passes  over  my  head  ;  then,  resting 
her  hand  again  upon  it,  she  began  chanting  another  low  song. 

"  What  do  you  see,  mudder  ?  "  asked  Joe,  leaning  forward, 
with  a  look  of  intense  interest  on  his  face. 

The  old  woman  then  went  on  to  detail  some  occurrences  in 
my  past  life ;  and  truth  obliges  me  to  say  that  she  told  them 
correctly.  They  were  known  to  her  master,  and  she  might 
have  learned  them  from  him  ;  therefore  I  was  not  forced  to 
believe  her  possessed  of  supernatural  power ;  still,  as  she  stood 
there  in  the  dim  light  of  the  burning  logs,  which  lit  up  her 
tall,  black  form,  and  cast  a  red  glow  over  her  thin,  weird  fea- 
tures, a  feeling  of  awe  crept  over  me,  and  I  rose  halfway  to 
my  feet. 

"  Sit  still,  sar,"  said  Joe,  motioning  me  back  into  the  chair. 
"  You'll  break  de  power." 

"  You  seem  to  know  the  past,  old  woman,"  I  said.  "  Tell 
me  the  future  !  " 

"  Stop  !  "  she  replied,  with  an  imperious  gesture.  "  Dey'm 
comin'." 

All  this  while  she  had  stood  with  her  hand  on  my  head,  as 
immovable  as  a  statue.  Her  voice  had  a  deep,  strong  tone, 
and  her  face  wore  a  look  of  calm  power.     Nothing  about  her 


BLACK     CLAIBVO  YANCE.  155 

reminded  me  of  the  weak,  decrepit  old  woman  she  had  seemed 
but  an  hour  before. 

"  Dej'm  yere !  "  she  said ;   and,  in  another  moment,  the 
door  opened,  and  Preston  and  his  wife  entered. 

Without  rising  or  speaking,  Joe  motioned  them  to   two 
vacant  chairs.     As  they  seated  themselves,  I  said : 

"  She  has  told  me  some  curious  things." 

"  She  has  strange  powers,"  replied  Preston. 

"  Hush,  Robert  Preston.     De  swanga  gemman  ax  fur  de 
future  ! " 

Shading,  then,  her  closed  eyes  with  one  hand,  and  leaning 
forward,  as  if  peering  into  the  far  distance,  the  old  negress  laid 
her  other  hand  again  on  my  head,  and  proceeded  to  tell  me  the 
future.  It  was  portrayed  allegorically,  and  seemed  singularly 
bound  up  with  Preston's.  As  I  look  back  now,  on  the  twenty 
years  which  have  passed  since  then,  and  think  of  some  of  her 
predictions,  and  of  some  events  which  have  occurred  in  my  life, 
I  have  to  admit  that  the  old  slave  woman  had  a  wonderful 
talent  at  guessing.  However,  who  is  there  that  has  not  been 
startled  by  the  strange  foretellings  of  some  gipsy,  black  or 
white  ?  And  yet,  who  believes  that  any  eye  but  that  of  the 
All-Seeing  can  pierce  the  thick  cloud  which  veils  the  future  ? 
The  next  morning  I  bade  adieu  to  my  kind  friends,  and 
started  again  on  my  journey.  Preston  accompanied  me  as  far 
as  Wilmington,  where  we  parted  :  he  going  on  to  Whitesville, 
in  search  of  the  new  turpentine  location  ;  and  I  proceeding, 
by  the  Charleston  boat,  southward. 


CHAPTER   XIII.      ' 

A     SCHOOLMISTRESS     AND     A     WIFE. 

Returning  to  my  home,  a  few  weeks  after  the  events 
narrated  in  the  previous  chapter,  in  pursuance  of  a  promise 
made  to  Preston,  I  inserted  an  advertisement  in  the  papers, 
which  read  somewhat  as  follows : 

"  Wanted,  a  suitable  person  to  go  South,  as  governess  in 
a  planter's  family.  She  must  be  thoroughly  educated,  and 
competent  to  instruct  a  boy  of  twelve.  Such  a  one  may  apply, 
by  letter  ; "  &c,  &c. 

A  score  of  replies  flowed  in  within  the  few  following  days, 
but,  being  excessively  occupied  with  a  mass  of  personal  busi- 
ness, which  had  accumulated  in  my  absence,  I  laid  them  all 
aside,  till  more  than  a  week  had  passed.  Then,  one  even- 
ing, I  took  them  home,  and  Kate  and  I  opened  the  batch.  As 
each  one  was  read  by  my  wife  or  myself,  we  commented  on  the 
character  of  the  writers,  as  indicated  by  the  handwriting  and 
general  style  of  the  epistles.  Rejecting  about  two  thirds  as 
altogether  unworthy  of  attention,  we  reserved  the  remaining 
half  dozen  for  a  second  inspection.  Among  these,  the  one 
with  the  cramped,  precise  chirography  was  thought  to  come 


A     BCHOOLMI8TBE88     AND     A     WIPE.         157 

from  an  old  maid.  Another,  where  five  lines  of  rail  fence  cov. 
Bred  a  sheet  nearly  as  large  as  a  ten-acre  lot,  was  the  produc- 
tion of  a  strong-minded  woman.  A  third,  on  tinted  paper,  and 
dotted  with  blots  and  erasures,  was.  from  a  Cat  lady,  who  wore 
her  shoes  down  at  the  heel,  and  got  up  too  late  for  breakfast. 
"  But  here,  Kate,"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  opened  the  fourth  missive, 
"  this  one,  in  this  firm  yet  ladylike  hand — this  one  will  do. 
Hear  what  it  says  :  K 

"  '  Sir  :  I  think  I  can  answer  your  requirements.  A  line 
addressed  to  Catharine  Walley,  B ,  N.  H.,  with  full  par- 
ticulars, will  receive  immediate  attention.'  * 

"  That's  the  woman,  Kate — a  business  man  in  petticoats  ! 
She  can  manage  a  boy  of  twelve  !  " 

"  Or  a  man  of  twice  that  age,"  said  Kate,  quietly  reading 
the  letter.     "I  wouldn't  have  that  woman  in  my  house." 

u  Why  not  ?  She  has  character,  take  my  word  for  it. 
Her  letter  is  as  short  and  sweet  as  a  '  promise  to  pay.'  " 

u  She  has  too  much  character,  and  not  of  the  right  sort. 
There  is  no  womanliness  about  her." 

"  You  women  are  always  hard  on  your  own  sex.  She'll 
have  to  manage  Joe,  and  she'll  need  to  be  half  man  to  do  that. 
I  think  I  had  better  write  her  to  come  here.  I  can  tell  what 
she  is  when  I  see  her.     I  can  read  a  woman  like  a  book."'' 

There  was  a  slight  twinkle  in  my  wife's  eyes  when  I  said 
this,  and  she  made  some  further  objections ;  but  I  overruled 
them,  and,  on  the  following  morning,  despatched  a  letter,  invit- 
ing Miss  Walley  to  the  city. 

Returning  to  my  office  from  u  'Change,"  one  afternoon,  a 


158  MY     SOUTHERN      FBIIHDt. 

few  days  afterward,  I  found  a  lady  awaiting  me.  She  rose,  as 
I  entered,  and  gave  her  name  as  Miss  ^Valley.  She  was  pre- 
possessing and  ladylike  in  appearance,  and  there  was  a  certain 
ease  and  self-possession  in  her  manner,  which  I  was  surprised 
to  see  in  one  directly  from  a  remote  country  town.  She  wore 
a  plain  gray  dress,  with  a  cape  of  the  same  material ;  a  straw 
hat,  neatly  trimmed  with  brown  ribbon,  and,  on  the  inside,  a 
bunch  of  deep  pink  flowers,  which  gave  a  slight  coloring  to  her 
otherwise  pale  and  sallow,  but  intellectual  face.  Her  whole 
dress  indicated  refinement  and  taste.  She  was  tall  and  slight, 
with  an  almost  imperceptible  stoop  in  the  shoulders,  the  result 
of  a  studious  habit ;  but  you  forgot  this  seeming  defect  in  her 
easy  and  graceful  movements.  Her  brown  hair  was  combed 
plainly  over  a  rather  low  and  narrow  forehead ;  her  face  was 
long  and  thin,  and  her  small,  clear  gray  eyes  were  shaded  by 
brown  eyebrows  meeting  together,  and,  when  she  was  talking 
earnestly,  or  listening  attentively,  slightly  contracting,  and 
deepening  her  keen  and  thoughtful  expression.  Her  nose  was 
long,  and  rather  prominent ;  and  her  mouth  and  chin  were 
large,  showing  character  and  will ;  but  their  masculine  expres- 
sion was  relieved  by  a  short  upper  lip,  which  displayed  to  full 
advantage  the  finest  set  of  teeth  I  ever  saw. 

Referring  at  once  to  the  object  of  her  visit,  she  handed  me 
a  number  of  credentials,  highly  commendatory  of  her  character 
and  ability  as  a  teacher.  I  glanced  over  them,  and  remarked 
that  they  were  satisfactory.  She  then  questioned  me  as  to  the 
compensation  she  would  receive,  and  the  position  of  the  family 
needing  her  services.  Answering  these  inquiries,  I  added  that 
I  was  prepared  to  engage  her  on  the  terms  I  had  named. 

"  I  have  been  in  receipt  of  the  same  salary  as  assistant  in  a 


A     SCHOOLMISTRESS     AND     A     WIPE.  159 

school    in  my   native  village,"   she   replied;     "but  what  you 
i   the   family    of    Mr.   Preston,   sad   a  desire  to  visit  the 
South,  will  induce  me  to  accept  the  situation." 

"  When  will  you  be  ready  to  go,  madam?"  I  asked. 

'•  At  once.     To-day,  if  necessary." 

Surprised,  and  yet  pleased  with  her  promptness,  I  said  : 

"And  are  you  entirely  ready  to  go  so  far  on  so  short 
notici 

"Yes.  The  cars  leave  in  the  morning,  I  am  told.  I  will 
start  then." 

"  And  alone?" 

"  Yes.  We  Yankee  girls  are  accustomed  to  takeing  care 
of  ourselves." 

"  I  admire  your  independence.  But  you  pass  the  night  in 
town  ;  you  will,  I  trust,  spend  it  at  my  house  ?  " 

"  Thank  you." 

Ordering  a  carriage,  and  stopping  on  the  way  at  a  hotel  to 
get  the  single  trunk  which  contained  her  wardrobe,  I  conveyed 
her  to  my  residence. 

After  supper,  we  all  gathered  in  the  parlor,  and  I  set  about 
entertaining  our  guest.  I  had  to  make  little  effort  to  do  that, 
for  her  conversation  soon  displayed  a  knowledge  of  books  and 
people,  and  a  wit  and  keenness  of  intellect,  that  decidedly  enter- 
tained me.  She  was  not  only  agreeable,  but  brilliant,  and,  in 
the  course  of  the  evening,  made  some  pleasant  overtures  to  the 
children.  Frank,  with  a  book  in  his  hand,  had  drawn  his  chair 
off  to  another  part  of  the  room,  and  showed,  at  first,  uncom* 
mon  reserve  for  a  lad  of  his  warm  and  genial  nature  ;  but 
gradually,  as  if  in  spite  of  himself,  he  edged  nearer  to  her. 
Our  little  "  four-year-old,"  however,  resisting  the  offered  temp- 


lO'O  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

tation  of  watch  and  chain,  and  even  sugarplum?,  repelled 
her  advances,  and  hid  his  curly  head  only  the  more  closely  in 
the  folds  of  his  mother's  dress.  Kate  listened  and  laughed; 
but  I  caught  occasionally,  as  her  eyes  studied  the  visitor  atten- 
tively, a  troubled  expression,  which  I  well  understood.  After 
a  while  the  lady  expressed  a  wish  to  retire,  that  she  might 
obtain  the  rest  needed  for  an  early  start  by  the  morning  train, 
and  Kate  conducted  her  to  her  apartment. 

I  felt  highly  delighted  with  the  idea  of  being  able  to  send 
Mrs.  Preston  so  agreeable  a  companion,  and  not  a  little  vexed 
with  my  wife  for  not  sharing  my  enthusiasm.  "When  she 
returned  to  the  parlor,  I  said : 

"  Kate,  why  do  you  not  like  her  ?  " 

"  I  can  hardly  tell  why"  she  replied,  "  but  my  first  impres- 
sion is  confirmed.  I  would  not  trust  her.  Why  does  she  go 
South  for  the  same  salary  she  has  had  in  New  Hampshire  ?  " 

"  Because  she  wants  to  see  the  world ;  she's  a  stirring 
Yankee  woman." 

"  No ;  because  you  told  her  of  Mr.  Preston's  position  in 
society  ;  and  because  she  hopes  to  win  a  plantation  and  a  rich 
planter." 

"  Nonsense,"  I  replied.     "  You  misjudge  her." 

"  I  tell  you,  Edmund,  she  is  a  cold,  selfish,  sordid  woman  ; 
all  intellect,  and  no  heart.  If  I  had  never  seen  her  face,  I 
^should  have  known  that  by  her  voice,  and  the  shake  of  her 
hand." 

But  it  was  too  late — I  had  engaged  her ;  and  at  sevon 
o'clock  on  the  following  morning  she  was  on  her  way  to  the 
South. 

I  soon  received  information  of  her  safe  arrival  at  the  plan- 


A      SCHOOLMISTRESS      AND      A      WIFE.  1G1 

tation,  and  the  warm  thanks  of  Preston  for  having  sent  him  so 

agreeable  a  person,  and  one  so  well  fitted  to  instruct  his  children. 

****** 

The  turpentine  location  was  soon  secured,  and,  early  in  the 
following  spring,  Joe,  with  about  a  hundred  "prime  hands," 
commenced  operations  in  the  new  field.  Constantly  increasing 
shipments  soon  gave  evidence  of  the  energy  with  which  the 
negro  entered  upon  his  work ;  and,  by  the  end  of  the  year, 
Preston  had  not  only  paid  the  advances  we  made  on  receiving 
the  deed  of  the  land,  but  also  the  note  I  had  given  for  the  pur- 
chase of  Phyllis.  For  the  first  time  in  five  years  he  was  en- 
tirely out  of  our  debt. 

The  next  season  he  hired  a  force  of  nearly  two  hundred 
negroes,  and  generously  gave  Joe  a  small  interest  in  the  new 
business,  with  a  view  to  the  black's  ultimately  buying  his  free- 
dom. His  transactions  soon  became  large  and  profitable  both 
to  him  and  to  us.  Shortly  afterward  he  paid  off  the  last  of  his 
floating  debt,  and  his  balances  in  our  hands  grew  from  nothing 
till  they  reached  five  and  seven,  and  often  ten  thousand  dollars. 

But  heavy  affliction  overtook  him  in  the  midst  of  his  pros- 
perity. His  wife  and  two  eldest  daughters  were  stricken  down 
by  a  prevailing  epidemic,  and  died  within  a  fortnight  of  each 
other.  A  letter  which  I  received  from  him,  at  this  time,  will 
best  relate  these  events.     It  was  as  follows : 

.  "  My  dear  Friend  :  I  have  sad,  very  sad  news  to  tell  you. 
A  week  ago  to-day,  I  followed  the  remains  of  my  beloved  wife 
to  the  grave.  Overcome  by  watching  with  our  children,  and 
grief  at  their  loss,  about  three  weeks  since  she  took  their  dis- 
ease, and,  sinking  rapidly,  soon  resigned  her  spotless  spirit  to 


162  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

the  hands  of  her  Maker.  Overwhelmed  by  this  threefold  afflic- 
tion, I  have  not  been  able  to  write  you  before.  Even  now  I 
can  hardly  hold  a  pen.  I  am  perfectly  paralyzed ;  I  can 
neither  act  nor  think — I  can  only  feel. 

"  You,  who  have  seen  her  in  our  home,  can  realize  what  she 
was  to  my  family  ;  but  none  can  know  what  she  has  been  to  me 
— companion,  friend,  guide  !  My  stay  and  support  through  long 
years  of  trial,  she  is  taken  from  me  just  as  prosperity  is  dawn- 
ing on  me,  and  I  was  hoping  to  repay,  by  a  life  of  devotion, 
some  part  of  what  she  had  borne  and  suffered  on  my  account. 
Another  angel  has  been  welcomed  in  heaven,  but  I  am  left 
here — alone — alone,  with  my  grief  and  my  remorse  ! 

"  My  son  is  inconsolable,  and  even  little  Selly  seems  to  real- 
ize the  full  extent  of  her  loss.  The  poor  little  thing  will  not 
leave  me  for  a  moment.  She  is  now  the  only  comfort  I  have. 
Miss  ^Valley  has  been  unremitting  in  her  kindness  and  atten- 
tion, taking  the  burden  of  everything  upon  herself.  Indeed,  I 
do  not  know  what  I  should  have  done  without  her. 

"  Time  may  temper  my  affliction,  but  now,  my  dear  friend, 
I  am  not  Robert  Preston." 

****** 

Nothing  worthy  of  special  mention  occurred  to  the  persons 
whose  history  I  am  relating,  till  about  a  year  after  the  death 
of  Mrs.  Preston.  Then,  one  day  late  in  the  autumn,  I  received 
information  of  her  husband's  approaching  marriage  with  the 
governess.  In  the  letter  which  invited  me  to  be  present  at  the 
ceremony,  Preston  said :  "  No  one  can  ever  fill  the  place  in  my 
heart  that  is  occupied,  and  will  ever  be  occupied,  by  the  mem- 
ory of  my  sainted  wife  ;  but  Miss  AYalley  has  rendered  herself 
indispensable  to  me  and  my  family.     My  studious  habits  and 


A    SCHOOLMISTRESS      AND      A      WIFE.  103 

ignorance  of  business  made  me,  as  you  know,  even  in  my  full 
health  and  Btrength,  a  poor  manager;  and,  during  the  past 
year,  grief  has  so  impaired  my  spirits,  that  I  have  been  utterly 
unfitted  for  attending  to  the  commonest  affairs.  But  for  Miss 
Walley,  everything  would  have  gone  to  waste  and  ruin.  With 
the  efficiency  of  a  business  man,  she  has  attended  to  my  house- 
hold, overseen  my  negroes,  and  managed  my  entire  plantation. 
In  the  first  months  of  my  bereavement,  when  grief  so  en- 
tirely overwhelmed  me  that  I  saw  no  one,  I  did  not  know  to 
what  censorious  remark  her  disinterested  devotion  to  my  inter- 
ests was  subjecting  her ;  but  recently  I  have  realized  the  im- 
propriety of  a  young,  unmarried  woman  occupying  the  position 
she  holds  in  my  household.  Miss  Walley,  also,  has  felt  this, 
and  some  time  since  notified  me,  though  with  evident  reluc- 
tance, that  she  felt  it  imperatively  necessary  to  leave  my  ser- 
vice. What,  then,  could  I  do  ?  My  people  needed  a  mistress, 
my  children  a  mother.  She  was  both.  Only  one  course 
seemed  open ;  and,  after  mature  deliberation,  I  offered  her  my 
hand,  frankly  stating  that  my  heart  is  with  the  angel  who, 
lost  to  me  here,  will  be  mine  hereafter.  Satisfied  with  my 
friendship  and  esteem,  she  has  accepted  me,  and  we  are  to  be 
married  on  the  26th  inst. ;  when  I  sincerely  trust  that  you, 
my  dear  friend,  and  your  estimable  lady,  will  be  present." 

That  night  I  took  the  letter  home  to  my  wife.  She  read 
it,  and,  laying  it  down  sadly,  said : 

"  Oh,  Edmund  !     I  fear.— I  greatly  fear  for  his  future  !" 
****** 

Two  years  went  by,  and  I  did  not  meet  Preston,  but  our 
business  relations  kept  us  in  frequent  correspondence,  and  his 
letters  occasionally  alluded  to  his  domestic  affairs. 


164  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Very  soon  after  his  marriage. with  the  governess,  his  son 
went  to  live  with  his  uncle,  Mr.  James  Preston,  of  Mobile,  a 
wealthy  bachelor,  who  long  before  had  expressed  the  intention 
of  having  the  boy  succeed  to  his  business  and  estate.  ■  Boss 
Joe"  continued  in  charge  of  the  turpentine  plantation,  and  had 
built  him  a  house,  and  removed  his  wife  and  aged  mother  to 
his  new  home.  On  one  of  my  visits  to  the  South,  I  stopped 
overnight  with  hiin,  and  was  delighted  with  his  model  estab- 
lishment. Two  hundred  as  cheerful-looking  darkies  as  ever 
swung  a  turpentine  axe,  were  gathered  in  tents  and  small  shan- 
ties around  his  neat  log  cabin,  and  Joe  seemed  as  happy  as  if 
he  were  governor  of  a  province. 

His  operations  had  grown  to  such  magnitude,  that  Preston 
then  ranked  among  the  largest  producers  of  the  North  Caro- 
lina staple,  and  his  "  account "  had  become  ©He  of  the  most 
valuable  on  our  books.  Though  we  sent  "  accounts  current " 
and  duplicates  of  each  "  accoimt  sales  "  to  his  master,  our  regu- 
lar "  returns "  were  made  to  Joe ;  and  no  one  of  our  corre- 
spondents held  us  to  so  strict  accountability,  or  so  often  ex- 
pressed dissatisfaction  with  the  result  of  his  shipments,  as  he. 

"  I  thinks  a  heap  of  you,  Mr.  Kirke,"  he  said,  at  the  close 
of  one  of  his  letters  about  this  time  ;  "  but  the  fact  am,  thar's 
no  friendship  in  trade,  and  you  did  sell  that  lass  pile  of  truck 
jess  one  day  too  sudden." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

FRANK. 

Two  more  years  rolled  away.  Frank  was  nearly  sixteen. 
He  had  grown  up  a  fine,  manly  lad,  and  never  for  one  moment 
had  Kate  or  I  regretted  the  care  we  had  bestowed  on  his  edu- 
cation and  training.  He  was  all  we  could  have  wished  for  in 
our  own  son,  and  in  his  warm  love  and  cheerful  obedience  we 
both  found  the  blessing  invoked  on  us  by  his  dying  mother. 

His  affection  for  Kate  was  something  more  than  the  com- 
mon feeling  of  a  child  for  a  parent.  With  that  was  blended  a 
sort  of  half  worship,  which  made  him  listen  to  her  every  word, 
and  hang  on  her  every  look,  as  if  she  were  a  being  of  some 
higher  order  than  he.  They  were  inseparable.  He  preferred 
her  society  to  that  of  his  young  companions ;  and  often,  when 
he  was  a  child,  seated  by  her  knee,  and  listening,  when  she 
told  of  his  "  other  mother  "  in  the  "  beautiful  heaven,"  have  I 
seen  his  eye  wander  to  her  face,  with  an  expression  which 
plainly  said  :  "  My  heart  knows  no  '  other  mother '  than  you." 
Kate  was  proud  of  him ;  and  well  she  might  be,  for  he  was  a 
comely  youth ;  and  his  straight,  closely  knit,  sinewy  frame, 
dark,  deepset  eyes,  and  broad,  open  forehead,  overhung  with 
thick,  brown  hair,  only  ontshadowed  a  bonutiful  mind,  an  open, 


106  MY      SOUTHEBN      FRIENDS. 

upright,  manly  nature,  whose  firm  and  steady  integrity  nothing 
could  shake. 

About  this  time  I  received  a  letter  from  his  father,  which, 
as  it  had  an  important  bearing  on  the  lad's  future  career,  I  give 
to  the  reader : 

"Boston,  September  20th,  185- 
"  Dear  Sir  :  A  recent  illness  has  brought  my  past  life  in 
its  true  light  before  me.  I  see  its  sin,  and  I  would  make  all 
the  atonement  in  my  power.  I  cannot  undo  the  wrong  I  have 
done  to  one  who  is  gone,  but  I  can  do  my  duty  to  her  child. 
You,  I  am  told,  have  been  a  father  to  him.  /  would  now 
assume  that  relation,  and  make  you  such  recompense  for  what 
you  have  done,  as  you  may  require.  I  am  too  weak  to  travel, 
or,  indeed,  to  leave  my  house,  but  I  am  impatient  to  see  my 
son.  May  I  not  ask  you  to  bring  him  to  me  at  once  ?  Then 
I  will  arrange  all  things  to  your  satisfaction. 

11 1  need  not  tell  you,  after  saying  what  I  have,  that  I  should 
feel  greatly  gratified  to  possess  once  more  your  confidence  and 
regard.  I  am  sincerely  yours, 

"  John  Hallet." 

In  another  hand,  was  the  following  postscript : 

"  My  dear  Boy  :  John  is  sincere.      Thee  can  trust   him. 

He  has  told  me  all.     He  will  do  the  right  thing.  Come  on 
with  the  lad  as  soon  as  thee  can.     Love  to  Kate. 

"  Thy  old  friend,  David." 

After  conferring  with  my  wife,  I  sent  the  following  reply 
to  these  communications : 


PRANK.  1G7 

11  New  York,  September  22d,  185-. 

"David  of  Old:  Thou  man  after  the  Lord's  own  heart. 
I  have  I  Lillet's  letter,  seasoned  with  your  P.  S.  He  is  shrewd. 
He  knew  that  nothing  but  your  old-fashioned  hand  would 
draw  a  reply  from  mc,  to  any  thing  written  by  him. 

"  I've  no  faith  in  sick-bed  repentances ;  and  none  in  John 
Hallet,  sick  or  well. 

"  '  When  the  devil  was  sick, 
The  devil  a  monk  would  be ; 
"When  the  devil  got  well, 
The  devil  a  monk  was  he.' 

"  However,  as  Hallet  is  capable  of  cheating  his  best  friend, 
even  the  devil,  I  will  take  his  letter  into  consideration ;  but  it 
having  taken  him  sixteen  years  to  make  up  his  mind  to  do  a 
right  action,  it  may  take  me  as  many  days  to  come  to  a  de- 
cision on  this  subject. 

"  Frank  is  everything  to  us  ;  and  nothing  but  the  clearest 
conviction  that  his  ultimate  good  will  be  promoted  by  going  to 
his  father,  will  induce  us  to  consent  to  it. 

"  I  do  not  write  Hallet.  You  may  give  him  as  much  or  as 
little  of  this  letter  as  you  think  will  be  good  for  him. 

"  Kate  sends  love  to  you  and  to  Alice ;  and,  dear  David, 
with  all  the  regard  I  felt  for  you  when  I  wore  a  short  jacket, 
and  sat  on  the  old  stool, 

"  I  am  your  devoted  friend,  Edmund." 


CHAPTER    XV. 

RUSSELL,      ROLLINS      &      CO. 

It  was  a  dingy  old  sign.  It  had  hung  there,  in  sun  and 
rain,  till  its  letters  were  faint  and  its  face  was  furrowed.  It 
had  looked  down  on  a  generation  that  had  passed  away,  and 
seen  those  who  placed  it  there  go  out  of  that  doorway,  never 
to  return  ;  still  it  clung  to  that  dingy  old  warehouse,  and  still 
Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.  was  signed  in  the  dingy  old  counting 
room  at  the  head  of  the  stairway.  It  was  known  the  world 
over.  It  was  heard  of  on  the  cotton  fields  of  Texas,  in  the 
canebrakes  of  Cuba,  and  amid  the  rice  swamps  of  Carolina. 
The  Chinaman  spoke  of  it  as  he  sipped  his  tea  and  plied  his 
chopsticks  in  the  streets  of  Canton ;  and  the  half-naked  negro 
rattled  its  gold  as  he  gathered  palm  oil  and  the  copal  gum  on 
the  western  coast  of  Africa.  Its  plain  initials,  painted  in  black 
on  a  white  ground,  waved  from  tall  masts  over  many  seas,  and 
its  simple  "  promise  to  pay,"  scrawled  in  a  bad  hand  on  a  nar- 
row strip  of  paper,  unlocked  the  vaults  of  the  best  bankers  in 
Europe.  And  yet  it  was  a  dingy  old  sign !  Men  looked  up 
to  it  as  they  passed  by,  and  wondered  that  a  cracked,  weather- 
beaten  board,  that  would  not  sell  for  a  dollar,  should  be  counted 
"  good  for  a  million." 

It  was  a  dingy  old   warehouse,    with  narrow,   dark,   cob- 


KUSSELL,      ROLLINS     AND     CO.  169 

webbed  windows,  and  wide,  rusty  iron  shutters,  which,  as  the 
bleak  October  wind  swept  up  old  Long  Wharf,  swung  slowly 
on  their  hinges  with  a  sharp,  grating  creak.  I  heard  them  in 
my  boyhood.  Perched  on  a  tall  stool  at  that  old  desk,  I  used 
to  listen,  in  the  long  winter  nights,  to  those  strange,  wild  cries, 
till  I  fancied  they  were  voices  of  the  uneasy  dead,  come  back 
to  take  the  vacant  seats  beside  me,  and  to  pace  again,  with 
ghostly  tread,  the  floor  of  that  dark  old  counting  room.  They 
were  a  mystery  and  a  terror  to  me ;  but  they  never  creaked 
so  harshly,  or  cried  so  wildly,  as  on  that  October  night,  when, 
for  the  first  time  in  nine  years,  I  turned  my  steps  up  the  trem- 
bling old  stairway. 

It  was  just  after  nightfall.  A  single  gas  burner  threw  a 
dim,  uncertain  light  over  the  old  desk,  and  lit  up  the  figure  of 
a  tall,  gray-haired  man,  who  was  bending  over  it.  He  had 
round,  stooping  shoulders,  and  long,  spindling  limbs.  One  of 
his  large  feet,  encased  in  a  thick,  square-toed  shoe,  rested  on 
the  round  of  the  desk ;  the  other,  planted  squarely  on  the  floor, 
upheld  his  spare,  gaunt  frame.  His  face  was  thin  and  long, 
and  two  deep,  black  lines  under  his  eyes  contrasted  strangely 
with  the  pallid  whiteness  of  his  features.  His  clothes  were  of 
the  fashion  of  those  good  people  called  "  Friends,"  and  had 
served  long  as  his  "  Sunday  best,*  before  being  degraded  to 
daily  duty.  They  were  of  plain  brown,  and,  though  not  shab- 
by, were  worn  and  threadbare,  and  of  decidedly  economical 
appearance.  Everything  about  him,  indeed,  wore  an  economi- 
cal look.  His  scant  coat  tailn,  narrow  pants,  and  short  waist- 
coat, showed  that  the  cost  of  each  inch  of  material  had  been 
counted ;  while  his  thin  hair,  brushed  carefully  over  his  bald 

head,  had  not  a  lock  to  spare  ;  and  even  his  large,  sharp  bones 
8 


1*70  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS- 

■were  covered  with  only  just  enough  flesh  to  hold  them  com. 
fortably  together.  He  had  stood  there  till  his  eye  was  dim  and 
his  step  feeble ;  and  though  he  had,  for  twenty  years — when 
handing  in  each  semiannual  trial  balance  to  the  head  of  the 
house — declared  that  was  his  last,  everybody  said  he  would 
continue  to  stand  there  till  his  own  trial  balance  was  struck, 
and  his  earthly  accounts  were  closed  forever. 

As  I  entered,  he  turned  his  mild  blue  eye  upon  me,  and, 
taking  my  hand  warmly  in  his,  exclaimed  : 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  am  glad  to  see  thee  !  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  David.     Is  Alice  well  ?  " 

"  Very  well.     And  Kate,  and  thy  babies  ?  " 

"  All  well,"  I  replied. 

11  Thee  has  come  to  see  John  ?  " 

"  Yes.     How  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  better ;  he  got  out  several  days  ago.  He's  inside 
now ; "  and,  opening  the  door  of  an  inner  office,  separated  from 
the  outer  one  by  a  glass  partition,  he  said  :  M  John,  Edmund  is 
here." 

A  tall,  dark  man  came  to  the  door,  and,  with  a  slightly 
flurried  and  embarrassed  manner,  said  : 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Kirke  !     I'm  glad  to  see  you.     Please  step  in." 

As  he  tendered  me  a  chair,  a  shorter  and  younger  gentle- 
man, who  was  writing  at  another  desk,  sprang  from  his  seat 
and,  slapping  me  familiarly  on  the  back,  exclaimed : 

"  My  dear  fellow,  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  Cragin  ;  how  are  you?"  I  replied,  returning 
his  cordial  greeting. 

"  Good  as  new — never  better  in  my  life.  It's  good  for 
one's  health  to  see  you  here" 


RUSSELL,      ROLLINS     AND     CO.  IT  1 

"  I  have  come  at  Mr.  Hallet's  invitation." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Hallet  has  told  me  you've  a  smart  boy 
you  want  us  to  take.  Send  him  along.  Boston's  the  place  to 
train  a  youngster  to  business." 

The  last  speaker  was  not  more  than  thirty,  but  a  bald  spot 
on  the  top  of  his  head,  and  a  slight  falling  in  of  his  mouth, 
caused  by  premature  decay  of  the  front  teeth,  made  him  seem 
several  years  older.  He  had  marked  but  not  regular  features, 
and  a  restless,  dark  eye,  that  opened  and  shut  with  a  peculiar 
wink,  which  kept  time  with  the  motion  of  his  lips  in  speaking. 
His  clothes  were  cut  in  a  loose,  jaunty  style,  and  his  manner, 
though  brusque  and  abrupt,  betokened,  like  his  face,  a  free, 
frank,  whole-souled  character.  He  was  several  years  the  junior 
of  the  other,  and  as  unlike  him  as  one  man  can  be  unlike  an- 
other. 

*  The  older  gentleman,  as  I  have  said,  was  tall  and  dark. 
He  had  a  high,  bold  forehead,  a  pale,  sallow  complexion,  and 
wore  heavy,  gray  whiskers,  trimmed  with  the  utmost  nicety, 
and  meeting  under  a  sharp,  narrow  chin.  His  face  was  large, 
his  jaws  wide,  and  his  nose  pointed  and  prominent ;  but  his 
mouth  was  small,  and  gathered  in  at  the  corners  like  a  rat's ; 
and,  as  if  to  add  to  the  rat  resemblance,  its  puny,  white  teeth 
seemed  borrowed  from  that  animal.  There  was  a  stately  pre- 
cision in  his  manner,  and  a  stealthy  softness  in  his  tread,  not 
often  seen  in  combination,  which  might  have  impressed  a  close 
observer  as  indicative  of  a  bold,  pompous,  and  yet  cunning 
character. 

These  two  gentlemen — Mr.  Hallet  and  Mr.  Cragin — were 
the  only  surviving  partners  of  the  great  house  of  Russell,  Rol- 
lins &  Co. 


172  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"Have  you  brought  him  with  you?"  asked  Hallet,  his 
voice  trembling  a  little,  and  his  pale  face  flushing  slightly  as  he 
spoke. 

u  No,  sir,"  I  replied  ;  "I  thought  I  would  confer  with  you 
first.     I  have  not  yet  broached  the  subject  to  the  lad." 

Some  unimportant  conversation  followed,  when  Hallet, 
turning  to  Cragin,  asked  : 

"  Are  all  the  letters  written  for  to-morrow's  steam- 
er ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Cragin,  rising ;  "  and  I  believe  I'll  leave  you 
two  together.  As  you've  not  spoken  for  ten  years,  you  must 
have  a  good  deal  to  say.  Come,  David,"  he  called  out,  as  he 
drew  on  his  outside  coat,  "  let's  go." 

"No;  don't  take  David,"  I  exclaimed;  "I  want  to  talk 
with  the  old  gentleman." 

"  But  you  can  see  him  to-morrow." 

11  No  ;  I  return  in  the  morning." 

"  Well,  David,  I'll  tell  Alice  you'll  be  home  by  nine." 

"  Oh  !  that's  it,"  I  said,  laughing.  "  It's  Alice  who  makes 
you  leave  so  early  on  steamer  night." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Alice  that  is,  and  Mrs.  Augustus  Cragin  that  is 
to  be — when  I  get  a  new  set  of  teeth.  Good  night ; "  and, 
saying  this,  he  took  up  his  cane,  and  left  the  office. 

When  he  was  gone,  Hallet  said  to  me : 

"  Do  you  desire  that  David  should  be  a  witness  to  our 
interview  ?  " 

"I  want  him  to  be  a  party  to  it.  "We  can  come  to  no 
arrangement  without  his  cooperation." 

Hallet  asked  the  bookkeeper  in.  When  he  was  seated,  I 
said : 


Kl'SSELL,      ROLLINS      AND      CO.  1T3 

u  Well,  Mr.  Hallet,  what  do  you  propose  to  do  fur  your 
son  ?  " 

u  To  treat  him  as  I  do  my  other  children.  Do  all  but  ac- 
knowledge him.     That  would  injure  him." 

"  That  is  not  important.  But  please  be  explicit  as  to  what 
you  will  do." 

u  David  tells  me  that  the  lad's  inclinations  tend  to  busi- 
ness, and  that  you  have  meant  to  take  him  into  your  office. 
I  will  take  him  into  mine,  and,  when  he  is  twenty-one — 
if  he  has  conducted  himself  properly,  give  him  an  in- 
terest." 

"  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  no  contingent  arrangement,  sir. 
I  know  Frank  will  prove  worthy  of  the  position." 

"  Very  well ;  then  I  will  agree  definitely  to  make  him  a 
partner  when  he  is  of  age." 

M  Well,  Mr.  Hallet,  if  Frank  will  consent  to  come,  I  will 
agree  to  this,  with  certain  conditions.  I  told  his  mother,  when 
she  was  dying,  that  I  would  consider  him  my  own  child ;  there- 
fore I  cannot  give  up  the  control  of  him.  He  must  regard  me 
and  depend  on  me  as  he  does  now.  Besides,  I  cannot  let  him 
come  here,  and  have  no  home  whose  influence  shall  protect 
him  from  the  temptations  which  beset  young  men  in  large 
cities.  David  must  take  him  into  his  family,  and  treat  him  as 
he  treated  me  when  I  was  a  boy ;  and — this  must  be  reduced 
to  writing." 

Hallet  showed  some  emotion  when  I  spoke  of  Frank's 
mother,  but  his  face  soon  resumed  its  usual  expression,  and  he 
promptly  replied  : 

"  I  will  agree  to  all  that ;  but  I  would  suggest  that  the  fact 
of  his  being  my  son  should  not  be  communicated  to  him ;  that 


174  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

it  should  be  confined  to  us  three.  I  ask  this,  believe  me,  only 
for  the  sake  of  my  family." 

"  I  see  no  objection  to  that,  sir ;  and  I  think  Frank,  for  his 
own  sake,  should  not  know  what  his  prospects  are." 

Hallet  signified  assent,  and,  turning  to  David,  I  asked : 

"  David,  what  do  you  say  ?     "Will  you  take  him  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  the  old  bookkeeper,  showing,  in  his  expendi- 
ture of  breath,  the  close  economy  which  was  the  rule  of  his 
life. 

11  Nothing  remains  but  to  arrange  his  salary,  and  the  share 
he  shall  have  when  he  becomes  a  partner,"  I  remarked  to 
Hallet. 

11  Will  an  average  of  seven  hundred  a  year,  and  an  eighth 
interest  when  he's  twenty-one,  be  satisfactory  ?  " 

"  Entirely  so.  An  eighth  in  your  house  will  be  better  than 
a  quarter  in  ours.  As  it  is  now  all  understood,  let  David  draw 
up  the  papers.  "We  will  sign  them,  and  leave  them  with  him 
till  I  see  Frank." 

11  Very  well.  David,  please  to  draw  them  up,"  said  Hal- 
let ;  and  then,  his  voice  again  trembling  a  little,  he  added  : 
"All  is  understood,  Mr.  Kirke,  but  the  compensation  I  shall 
make  you  for  your  fatherly  care  of  my  much-neglected  son. 
Money  cannot  pay  for  such  service,  but  it  will  relieve  me  to  re- 
imburse you  for  your  expenditures." 

"  I  have  had  my  pay,  sir,  in  the  love  of  the  boy.  I  ask  no 
more." 

Hallet  was  sensibly  affected,  but,  without  speaking,  he 
turned  to  the  desk,  and  took  down  his  bankbook.  In  a  few 
moments  he  handed  me  a  check.  It  was  for  five  thousand  dol- 
lars.    I  took  it,  and,  hesitating  an  instant,  said  : 


RUSSELL,      ROLLINS      AND      CO.  175 

"  I  will  keep  this,  sir,  not  for  myself,  but  for  Frank.  It 
may  be  of  service  to  him  at  some  future  time." 

u  Keep  it  for  yourself,  sir,  not  for  him.  He  will  not  need 
it.     He  shall  share  equally  with  my  other  children." 

11 1  am  glad  to  see  this  spirit  in  you.  Frank  will  be 
worthy  of  all  you  do  for  him." 

"  It  is  not  for  his  sake  that  I  will  do  it,"  replied  Hallet,  his 
voice  tremulous  with  emotion  ;  "  it  is  that  I  may  have  the  for- 
giveness of  the  one  I — I — "  He  said  no  more,  but,  leaning 
his  head  on  his  hand,  he  wept ! 

No  one  spoke  for  some  minutes ;  at  last  David  rose, 
and,  handing  me  one  of  the  papers,  laid  the  other  before 
Hallet. 

"  This  appears  right,"  I  said,  after  reading  it  over  care- 
fully. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Hallet,  taking  up  a  pen  and  signing  the 
other.  Passing  it  to  me,  he  added :  "  Keep  them  both — take 
them  now." 

"  But  Frank  may  not  wish  to  come." 

"  Then  I  will  find  some  other  way  of  helping  him.  He  is 
my  son  !     Take  the  papers." 

"Well,  as  you  say,"  I  replied.  "David,  please  to  witness 
this." 

Hallet  pressed  me  to  pass  the  night  at  his  house,  but  I  de- 
clined, and  rode  out  to  Cambridge  with  the  old  bookkeeper. 
With  many  injunctions  to  watch  carefully  over  Frank,  I  left 
him  about  twelve  o'clock,  rode  into  town  with  Cragin,  and  the 
next  morning  started  for  New  York. 

That  night,  as  I  recounted  the  interview  to  Kate,  I 
said: 


176  MY      SOUTHERN      FEIEXDS. 

"  I  never  did  believe  in  these  double-quick  conversions ; 

but  Hallet  is  an  altered  man." 

"  Then,  indeed,  can  the  leopard  change  his  spots." 

As  usual,  her  womanly  intuitions  were  right ;  my  worldly 

wisdom  was  wrong ! 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

S  E  L  M  A  . 

>     Not  long  after  the  events  I  have  just  related,  the  mail 
brought  me  the  following  letter  from  Preston : 

11  My  very  dear  Friend  :  Circumstances,  which  I  cannot 
explain  by  letter,  render  it  imperatively  necessary  that  I 
should  provide  another  home  for  my  daughter.  Her  education 
has  been  sadly  neglected,  and  she  should  be  where  she  can 
have  experienced  tutors,  and  good  social  surroundings.  With 
her  delicate  organization,  and  sensitive  and  susceptible  nature, 
she  needs  motherly  care  and  affection,  and  I  shrink  from  com- 
mitting her  to  the  hands  of  strangers.  I  should  feel  at  rest 
about  her  only  with  you.  You  have  been  my  steadfast  friend 
through  many  years ;  you  have  stood  by  me  in  sore  trials ; 
may  I  not,  then,  ask  you  to  do  me  now  a  greater  service  than 
you  have  ever  done,  by  receiving  my  little  daughter  into  your 
family  ?  I  know  this  is  an  unusual,  almost  presumptuous  re- 
quest ;  but  if  you  knew  her  as  she  is — gentle,  loving,  obedient 
— the  light  and  joy  of  all  about  her,  I  am  sure  you,  and  your 
excellent  lady,  would  love  her,  and  be  willing  to  make  her  the 
companion  of  your  children.  She  is  my  only  earthly  comfort, 
and  it  will  rend  my  heart  to  part  with  her,  but — I  must. 


178  MY     SOUTUEKN     FUIENDS. 

"  "Write  me  at  once.     You  are  yourself  a  father — do  not 
me" 

To  this,  on  the  next  day,  I  sent  the  following  reply : 

u  My  dear  Friend  :  I  would  most  cheerfully  take  your 
daughter  into  my  family,  did  my  wife's  health,  which  has  been 
failing  all  the  summer,  admit  of  her  assuming  any  additional 
care. 

"  I  think,  however,  I  can  provide  Selma  with  a  home 
equally  as  good  as  my  own ;  one  where  good  influences  will  be 
about  her,  and  she  will  have  the  best  educational  advantages. 
I  refer  to  the  family  of  Mr.  David  Gray,  of  Cambridge,  Massa- 
chusetts. He  was  my  father's  friend.  The  years  I  was  a  boy 
with  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.,  I  was  an  inmate  of  his  house  ; 
and  my  adopted  son,  Frank,  is  now  in  his  care.  His  daughter 
Alice  is  a  most  suitable  person  to  have  charge  of  a  young  girl. 
She  is  like  a  sister  to  me,  and,  to  oblige  me,  would  no  doubt 
take  Selma. 

"  Please  advise  me  of  your  wishes  ;  and  believe,  my  dear 
friend,  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  serve  you." 

I  was  sitting  down  at  supper,  one  evening,  about  a  fort- 
night after  sending  this  letter,  when  a  gentleman  was  an- 
nounced as  wishing  to  see  me.  I  rose,  and  went  into  the  par- 
lor. It  was  Preston,  and  with  him  was  Selma,  then  a  beautiful 
little  girl  of  about  eleven  years. 

Asking  Preston  to  lay  aside  his  outside  coat,  I  was  struck 
by  his  altered  appearance.  It  was  four  years  since  we  had 
met,  but,  looking  at  him,  I  imagined  it  might  be  ten.     His 


SELMA.  179 

eyes  were  sunken,  deep  furrows  were  about  his  mouth,  and  his 
blown  hair  was  thickly  streaked  with  gray. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  grasped  his  hand  a 
second  time,  "you  are  not  well  !  " 

"  I  am  as  well  as  usual,  Kirke.     Time  has  not  done  this  !  " 

Fatigued  with  the  long  journey,  Selma  had  retired,  and  our 
own  little  ones  were  in  bed,  when  Kate  joined  us  in  the  parlor. 

"  You  do  look  ill,  Mr.  Preston,"  she  said,  seating  herself 
beside  him.     "  You  must  stay  a  while  with  us,  and  rest." 

"  I  would  be  glad  to  stay  here,  madam — anywhere  away 
from  home." 

"  The  care  of  two  plantations,  such  as  yours,  must  be  a 
burden." 

"  It  is  not  that,  madam ;  Joe  relieves  me  entirely  from 
oversight  of  one  of  them.  My  difficulty  is  at  home — it  is 
not  what  yours  is." 

Kate's  sympathizing  words  soon  drewr  him  out  (she  has  a 
way  of  winning  the  confidence  of  people,  and  is  the  depositary 
of  more  family  secrets  than  any  other  woman  in  the  State)  ; 
and  he  told  us  what  his  home  had  become  since  his  union  with 
the  governess. 

Within  two  months  after  the  marriage  her  real  character 
began  to  display  itself,  and  she  soon  developed  into  a  genuine 
Xantippe.  Getting  control  of  Mulock,  who  had  been  made 
overseer,  she  had  the  negroes  dreadfully  whipped  and  over- 
worked ;  she  treated  young  master  Joe  so  badly  that  the  lad 
rebelled,  and,  in  his  father's  absence,  ran  away  to  his  uncle  at 
Mobile  ;  and  locking  Selma  up  in  a  dark  room,  without  food, 
or  beating  her  till  her  back  was  actually  discolored,  she  made 
the  child's  home  intolerable  to  her. 


180  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

After  master  Joe  went  away,  no  one  dared  complain  ;  and 
shut  up  in  his  library,  brooding  over  his  still  fresh  grief  for  the 
death  of  his  wife,  Preston  knew  nothing  of  the  real  state  of 
affairs  till  more  than  a  year  had  elapsed.  Then,  one  day,  he 
found  Selma  in  tears.  He  questioned  her,  and  learned  the 
whole.  A  scene  followed,  in  which  Mrs.  Preston  asserted  her 
rights  as  mistress  of  the  plantation,  and  defied  him.  She  had 
run  into  all  sorts  of  extravagance ;  the  yearly  bills,  which  had 
come  in  a  short  time  previous,  were  appallingly  large,  but,  to 
secure  peace,  Preston  consented  to  buy  and  furnish  a  winter 
residence  at  Newbern.  To  that  she  had  removed  ;  but,  with 
the  coming  spring,  she  would  return  to  the  plantation,  and  in 
the  mean  time  Selma  must  be  provided  with  another  home. 

"  Feel  no  anxiety  about  her,  sir,"  said  Kate,  as  he  con- 
cluded ;   "  if  Alice  Gray  will  not  take  her,  we  will." 

"  I  thank  you,  madam  :  I  cannot  thank  you  enough  for  say- 
ing that,"  replied  Preston,  his  eyes  rilling  with  tears. 

I  wrote  at  once  to  David,  and  soon  received  a  letter  from 
Alice  consenting  to  take  charge  of  the  little  girl.  Thanksgiv- 
ing, at  which  time  Kate  made  annual  visits  to  her  early  home, 
was  approaching,  and  it  was  decided  that  Selma  should  accom- 
pany her  to  Boston. 

This  being  arranged,  Preston,  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight, 
took  leave  of  us,  and  returned  to  the  South.  The  parting 
between  the  father  and  the  child  gave  evidence  of  what  they 
were  to  each  other.  Preston  wept  like  a  woman  ;  but  as  Kate 
brushed  back  the  brown  curls  from  the  broad  forehead  of  little 
Selly,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  my  wife's  face,  and,  while  her  thin 
nostrils  dilated,  and  her  sensitive  chin  slightly  quivered,  said  : 

"  I  must  not  cry,  for  poor  papa's  sake — it  is  so  very  hard 


SELMA.  181 

for  him  to  go  home  alone;  and  he  will  miss  his  little  girl  so 
much." 

"You  an-  right,  dear  child,"  .said  Kate;  and,  as  if  looking 
into  the  far  future  of  the  woman,  and  feeling  that  such  a  nature 
must  suffer  as  well  as  enjoy  keenly,  she  inwardly  thanked  God 
that,  with  her  delicate  organization,  He  had  given  her  the  un- 
selfish and  brave  heart  which  those  words  expressed. 

****** 

Four  years  had  wrought  great  changes  in  David's  quiet 
home.  Alice  had  become  Mrs.  Augustus  Cragin,  and  a  little 
Alice  tottled  about  the  floor ;  but  after  supper,  David  still 
found  his  evening  cigar  on  the  oak  stand,  his  needlework  slip- 
pers— wrought  by  Alice's  own  hand — in  their  place  before  the 
fender,  and  his  large  armchair  rolled  up  close  to  the  gas  burner 
in  the  little  back  parlor  at  Cambridge. 

Frank  was  twenty,  and  had  fulfilled  the  promise  of  his 
boyhood.  His  father,  after  the  honeymoon  of  his  repentance 
was  over,  showed  no  great  interest  in  him  ;  but  Cragin,  who 
knew  nothing  of  my  arrangement  with  Hallet,  had  given  him 
all  the  advantages  in  his  power. 

Selma  was  only  fifteen,  but,  like  the  flowers  of  her  own 
South,  she  had  blossomed  early,  and  was  already  a  woman. 
Preston  had  visited  her  every  summer,  but  she  never  returned 
with  him,  having  preferred  passing  her  vacations  at  my  house. 

In  David's  loving  household  nothing  had  occurred  to  dis- 
turb her  peaceful  life.     Beloved  by  her  teachers  and  school- 
mates, she  everywhere  received  the  homage  due  to  her  beauty 
and  her  goodness;  and  in  the  gay  world  into  which  her  jo; 
nature  often  led  her,  she  was  the  acknowledged  and  vn<  > 
queen  !     I  lor  father  had  spared  no  pains  in  her  education  ;  the 


182  MY     BOUTHSBH     FBISNDS. 

best  tutors  had  trained  her  fine  ear  and  sweet  voice,  and  taught 
her  to  give  form  and  coloring  to  the  pictures  her  glowing 
imagination  created ;  and,  whether  her  fingers  ran  over  the 
keys  of  a  musical  instrument,  or  wielded  the  brush,  there  was 
a  delicacy  and  yet  spirit  in  her  touch,  which  were  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  all. 

I  was  not  surprised,  when  visiting  Boston  about  this  time, 
to  have  Frank  tell  me  that  he  loved  her,  and  ask  my  consent 
to  his  regarding  her  as  his  future  wife. 

****** 

Kate  and  I  were  to  leave  for  home  on  the  following  day, 
and,  calling  at  the  office  in  the  afternoon,  I  said  to  Frank : 

u  I  have  tickets  for  the  opera,  including  Selma ;  of  course 
you'd  like  to  have  her  go." 

"  Yes,  father ;  she  has  never  been,  and  I  have  promised  to 
take  her  this  winter.     She'll  be  able,  now,  to  appreciate  it." 

The  box  I  had  selected  was  at  a  happy  distance  from  the 
stage,  and  we  gave  Selma  a  front  seat,  that  she  might  see  to 
the  best  advantage.  She  was  in  high  spirits ;  indeed,  she  was 
radiant  in  her  beauty.  She  wore  a  dark  blue  dress  of  silk, 
fitting  closely  to  her  neck,  and  its  short  sleeves  allowed  the 
plump,  fair  arms  to  half  disclose  themselves  from  beneath  the 
scarlet  mantle  which  fell  around  her  shoulders.  Her  hair  fell 
over  her  neck  in  the  same  simple  fashion  as  in  her  childhood, 
except  that  the  thick  curls,  which  had  lost  their  golden  tint, 
and  were  darker  and  longer,  were  looped  back  from  her  broad 
forehead,  with  a  few  simple  flowers.  There  was  the  same  contour 
of  face  and  feature,  but  ennobled  by  thought  and  culture  ;  the 
same  sensitive  mouth,  only  that  the  lips  were  fuller,  and  of  a 
deeper  color ;  and,  as  she  talked  or  listened,  the  same  rose  tint 


SELMA.  183 

deepened  and  faded  beneath  her  rich,  soft,  dark  skin,  as  sun- 
light shifts  and  fades  across  the  evening  sky.  Her  eyes,  in 
whose  dark  depths  the  soul  was  reflected,  met  a  stranger's 
calmly,  but  took  a  soft  look  of  loving  trust  when  meeting 
Frank's.  They  were  shaded  by  long  lashes,  as  black  as  the 
night ;  and  when  the  lids  fell  suddenly,  as  they  often  did,  and 
her  face  became  quiet,  and  almost  sad,  you  felt  that  she  was 
communing  with  the  angels. 

The  overture  burst  forth,  and,  with  glowing  face,  and  eyes 
lixed  upon  the  stage,  Selma  seemed  lost  to  all  but  the  enrap- 
turing sounds  ;  even  Frank's  whispered  words  were  unheeded. 
As  the  opera — "  Lucia  di  Lammei'moor " — proceeded,  I  saw 
that  every  eye  was  attracted  to  our  box,  and,  bending  forward 
to  catch  Selma's  expression,  I  called  Kate's  attention  to  her. 
With  her  head  thrown  slightly  back,  a  bright  spot  burning  on 
either  cheek,  her  breath  suspended,  the  large  tears  coursing 
from  her  eyes,  and  motionless  as  a  statue,  she  sat  with  her 
small  hands  clasped  on  the  front  of  the  box,  as  if  entranced, 
and  all  unconscious  of  the  hundred  eyes  that  were  fixed  upon 
her.  I  thought  of  the  pictures  I  had  seen  in  the  old  galleries 
of  Europe,  but  I  said,  "  Surely,  art  cannot  equal  nature  !  " 

When  it  was  over,  she  took  Frank's  arm.  I  turned  to 
question  her,  but  Kate  said  : 

"  Let  her  alone  ;  she  cannot  talk  now." 

****** 

The  transactions  of  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.  extended  the 
world  over ;  but,  since  the  death  of  Mr.  Rollins,  which  oc- 
curred prior  to  Frank's  going  with  them,  they  had  cultivated 
particularly  the  Southern  trade,  and  their  operations  in  cotton 
had  grown   to  be   enormous.      They  bought   largely  of  that 


1 84  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

staple  on  their  own  account,  and  for  some  extensive  manufac- 
turing establishments  in  England.  Their  purchases  were 
chiefly  made  in  New  Orleans,  and,  to  attend  to  this  business, 
Hallet  had  passed  the  winters  in  that  city  for  several  years. 

His  wealth  had  grown  rapidly,  and,  at  the  date  of  which  I 
am  writing,  he  ranked  among  the  "  solid  men "  of  Boston. 
Cragin  was  not  nearly  so  wealthy.  Being  on  intimate  terms 
with  the  latter,  I  remarked,  as  we  were  enjoying  a  cigar  to- 
gether one  evening  at  David's,  on  the  occasion  of  the  visit  to 
which  I  have  referred  in  the  this  chapter : 

"  How  is  it,  Cragin,  that  you  pass  for  only  a  hundred  thou- 
sand, when  Hallet  is  rated^nearly  a  million  ?  " 

"  Because,  Ned,  I'm  not  worth  more." 

"  But  how  is  that,  when  you  have  two  fifths  of  the  con- 
cern ?  " 

"  Well,  Hallet  went  into  cotton  like  the  devil  some  ten 
years  ago ;  and  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  stand  it.  I  like  to  feel 
the  ground  under  me.  Since  then  he  has  speculated  on  his 
own  account ;  he  and  old  Roye  go  it  strong,  and  I  guess 
they've  made  some  pretty  heavy  lifts." 

"  That's  uncertain  business." 

11  Yes,  devilish  uncertain ;  but,  somehow,  they  manage 
always  to  hold  winning  cards.  Hallet  has  told  me  his  New 
Orleans  operations  have  netted  him  four  hundred  thousand." 

"  And  that,  with  what  he  got  by  his  wife,  has  rolled  him 
into  a  millionaire  before  he's  forty-five  !     He's  a  lucky  fellow." 

"  Lucky  !  I  wouldn't  stand  in  his  boots.  "Wftat  goes  up, 
may  come  down.  He  has  no  peace.  His  wife's  a  hyena. 
She  makes  home  too  hot  for  him  ;  and,  somehow,  he's  never 
easy.     He  walks  about  as  if  treading  on  torpedoes." 


SELMA.  185 

"  If  yon  dislike  speculation,  why  not  increase  your  legiti, 
mate  business  ?" 

"  Hallet's  away  so  much,  I  can't.  I'm  glued  to  the  old 
office.  I  ought  to  have  been  in  Europe  half  of  the  time  the 
last  three  years,  but  I  haven't  been  able  to  get  away." 

M  Why  not  send  Frank  ?     He's  old  enough  now." 

M  I  mean  to,  in  the  spring ;  and  I'm  d — d  if  he  sha'n't  be 
a  partner  soon,  and  take  some  of  this  load  off  my  shoulders. 
But  do  you  know  that  Hallet  has  a  decided  dislike  to  him  ?  " 

"  No  !  On  what  account  ?  "  I.  exclaimed.  I  had  met 
Hallet  only  twice  during  four  years,  but  on  both  occasions  he 
had  spoken  favorably  of  his  son.  Frank  himself  had  never 
alluded  in  other  than  respectful  terms  to  his  father. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  and  it  makes  no  difference.  I'm 
captain  at  this  end  of  the  towline,  and  I  swear  he  shall  go  in." 

"As  you  feel  so  kindly  toward  Frank,  I'll  give  him  a 
chance  to  conciliate  Hallet.  I'll  take  him  South,  this  winter, 
and  introduce  him  to  our  correspondents.  With  his  address 
he  ought  to  do  something  with  them.     Will  you  let  him  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  be  right  down  glad  to  have  him.     When  do 
you  start  ?  " 
.    "  About  the  middle  of  December." 

A  fortnight  afterward,  with  Selma  and  Frank,  I  again 
visited  Preston's  plantation. 


CHAPTEE  XYTL 

A     PLANTATION      CHRISTMAS. 

It  was  Christmas  morning  when  we  rode  up  the  long, 
winding  avenue,  and  halted  before  the  doorway  of  ''Forest 
Lake" — the  new  name  which  the  Yankee  schoolmistress, 
aping  the  custom  of  her  Yankee  cousins,  had  bestowed  on 
Preston's  plantation.  The  day  was  mild  and  sunshiny,  and  the 
whole  population  of  the  little  patriarchate  was  gathered  on  the 
green  in  front  of  the  mansion,  distributing  Christmas  presents 
among  the  negroes.  "When  we  came  in  sight,  from  behind  the 
thick  cluster  of  liveoaks  which  bordered  the  miniature  lake, 
the  whole  assemblage  sent  up  a  glad  shout,  and  hurried  up  to 
welcome  us.  And  such  a  welcome  !  As  she  sprang  from  the 
carriage,  Selma  was  caught  in  her  father's  arms,  then  in  "  mas- 
ter Joe's,"  and  then,  encircled  by  a  cloud  of  dark  beauties, 
each  vieing  with  the  other  in  boisterous  expressions  of  affec- 
tion, she  was  the  victim  of  such  a  demonstration  as  would 
have  done  the  heart  of  Hogarth  good  to  witness.  In  the 
midst  of  it  a  slight,  delicate  woman  rushed  from  the  house, 
and,  crowding  into  the  thick  group  around  Selma,  threw  her 
arms  about  her  neck,  and,  nearly  smothering  her  with  kisses, 
exclaimed : 

11  My  chile  !  my  chile  !     I  sees  you  at  last  1 " 


A      PLANTATION      CHRISTMAS.  187 

••  Yes,  Phylly,"  said  Selma,  returning  her  caresses;  "and 
haven't  I  grown  ?     I  thought  you  wouldn't  know  me." 

"  Know  you  !  Ain't  you  my  chile — my  own  dear  chile  1 " 
and,  pressing  Selma's  cheeks  between  her  two  hands,  and  gaz- 
ing at  her  beautiful  face  for  a  moment,  she  kissed  her  over  and 
over  again. 

My  arms  had  been  nearly  shaken  off,  when  I  noticed 
"  Boss  Joe  "  limping  toward  me,  his  head  uncovered,  and  his 
broad  face  shining  from  out  his  gray  wool  like  the  full  moon 
breaking  through  a  mass  of  clouds. 

"How  are  you,  old  gentleman?"  I  exclaimed,  grasping 
him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  Right  smart !  right  smart,  massa  Kirke.  Glad  you'm 
come,  sar." 

"  And  you're  home  for  Christmas  ?  " 

"  Yas,  sar.  I'se  come  ter  see  massa  Robert,  an'  ter  tend 
ter  hirin'  a  new  gang.     But  darkies  am  high  dis  yar,  sar." 

"  How  much  are  they  ?  " 

"  Well,  dey  ax,  roun'  yere,  one  fifty,  an'  'spenses  dar  an' 
back ;  an'  it'm  a  pile,  when  you  tink  we  hab  used  up  'most  all 
de  new  trees." 

"  But  you  must  have  many  second-year  cuttings." 

"  Yas,  right  smart ;  but  No.  2  rosum  doan't  pay  at  sech 
prices  fur  darkies." 

Turning  to  Preston  in  a  moment,  I  said  : 

"  Do  not  let  us  interfere  with  the  '  doin's ' ;  it's  just  what 
we  want  to  see." 

""Well,  come,  you  folks,"  said  Joe,  hobbling  back  to  the 
green  ;   "  leff  us  gwo  on  now." 

Preston,  Selma,  and  Phyllis  went  into  the  house,  but  the 


188  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

rest  of  us  followed  the  grinning  group  of  Africans  to  the 
centre  of  the  lawn,  where  several  large  packing  boxes,  and  a 
long  table,  something  like  a  carpenter's  bench,  were  piled  high 
with  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of  dry  goods  and  groceries. 

"  Now,  all  you  dat  hab  heads,  come  up  yere,"  shouted  Joe, 
seating  himself  on  the  bench  ;   "  but  doan't  all  come  ter  onst." 

One  by  one  the  men  and  boys  filed  past  him,  and,  selecting 
a  hat  or  cap  from  a  couple  of  boxes  near,  he  adjusted  a  cover- 
ing to  each  woolly  cranium  that  presented  itself;  interspersing 
the  exercise  with  humorous  remarks  on  their  respective  phreno- 
logical developments : 

11  Pomp,  you's  made  fur  a  preacher,  shore.  Dat  dar  head  ob 
your'n  gwoes  up  jess  like  a  steeple.  I'll  hab  ter  gib  you  a  cap, 
Dave;  you'm  so  big  ahind  de  yeres,  none  ob  dese  hats '11  fit, 
nohow.  Jess  show  de  back  ob  you'  head  to  ony  gemman,  an' 
he'll  say  you'm  one  ob  de  great  ones  ob  de  'arth.  None  ob 
dese  am  big  'nuff  fur  you,  Ally,"  he  continued,  as  a  tall,  well- 
clad  mulatto  man  stepped  up  to  him.  "You'  bumps  hab 
growed  so  sence  you  took  ter  de  swamp,  dat  nuffin'll  cober  you 
'cept  massa  Robert's  hat,  or  de  gal  Rosey's  sunshade." 

The  yellow  man  laughed,  but  kept  on  trying  the  hats. 
Finding  one,  at  last,  of  suitable  dimensions,  he  turned  away  to 
make  room  for  another  candidate  for  cranial  honors.  As  I 
caught  a  full  view  of  his  face,  I  exclaimed  : 

"Why,  Ally,  is  that  you?" 

" Yas,  massa;  it'm  me,"  he  replied,  making  a  respectful 
bow. 

"  And  you  live  here  yet  ?  " 

"  Yas,  massa.     Hope  you's  well,  massa  ?  " 

"  Very  well.     And  your  mother — how  is  she  ?  " 


A      PLANTATION      CHRISTMAS.  189 

"  Oh  !   dio*m  right  smart,  sar." 

"  Yas,  ^assa,  Pse  right  smart ;  an'  I'se  bery  glad  ter  see 
'on,  massa,"  said  a  voice  at  my  elbow.  It  was  Dinah,  no 
longer  clad  in  coarse  osnaburg,  but  arrayed  in  a  worsted  gown, 
and  a  little  grayer  and  a  little  bulkier  than  when  I  saw  her 
eight  years  before. 

"  Why,  Dinah,  how  well  you  look  I  "  I  exclaimed,  giving 
her  my  hand.  "And  you've  come  up  to  spend  Christmas 
with  Ally  ?  ;< 

"  No,  massa,  I  libs  yere.  '  I'se  free  now,  massa  !  " 
"  Free  I     So  you've  made  enough  to  buy  yourself?     I'm 
glad  to  hear  it." 

"  No,  massa.     Ally — de  good  chile— he  done  it,  massa." 
"Ally  did  it!      How  could  he?      He's   not   more   than 
twenty  now  !  " 

"  Xo  more'n  he  hain't,  massa ;  but  he'm  two  yar  in  massa 
Preston's  swamp,  wid  a  hired  gang.  Massa  Preston  put  de 
chile  ober  'em,  an'  gib  him  a  haff  ob  all  he  make,  an'  he'm 
doin'  a  heap  dar,  massa." 

"  And  with  his  first  earnings  he  bought  his  mother  !  " 
"  Yas,  massa  ;  wid  de  bery  fuss." 

"Ally,  give  me  your  hand,"  I  exclaimed,  with  unaffected 
pleasure  ;  "  you're  a  man  !  You're  worthy  of  such  a  mother  !  " 
"  Yas,  he  am  dat,  massa !  He'm  wordy  ob  onyting ;  an' 
he'm  gwine  ter  hab  a  wife  ter  day,  massa.  Boss  Joe  am 
gwine  ter  marry  'em,  an'  ter  gib  'em  him  own  cabin  fur  dar 
Chrismus  giff." 

"  "Well,  Joe  is  a  trump.     I'll  remember  him  in  my  will  for 
that,  aunty,  sure." 

"  Dat'm  bery  good  ob  'ou,  massa ;  but  I  reckon  'ou  can't 


190  MY     SOUTIIERN     FRIENDS. 

tink  who  Ally'm  gwine  ter  hab,  massa,"  said  the  old  woman, 
her  face  beaming  all  over. 

"  No,  I  can't,  Dinah.     Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  It'm  little  Rosey,  dat  'ou  buy  ob  de  trader,  massa ;  an' 
she'm  de  pootiest  little  gal  all  roun'  yere ;  ebery  one  say  dat, 
massa." 

"  Indeed  !     And  they  are  to  be  married  to-day?  " 

"  Yas,  massa,  ter  day — dis  evenin'.  'Ou'll  be  dar,  woan't 
'ou,  massa  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly  I  will." 

The  old  woman  and  Ally  then  mingled  with  the  crowd  of 
negroes,  and  I  turned  my  attention  once  more  to  Joe's  opera- 
tions. The  men  had  been  supplied  with  head  gear,  and  the 
women  were  receiving  their  turbans — gaudy  pieces  of  red  and 
yellow  muslin. 

"  Now,  all  you  boys  an'  gals,"  shouted  Joe,  as  he  dealt  out 
a  handkerchief  to  the  last  of  the  dusky  demoiselles,  "  you  all 
squat  on  de  groun',  an'  shovel  off  you'  shoes." 

Down  they  went  in  every  conceivable  attitude,  and,  uncov- 
ering their  feet,  commenced  pelting  each  other  with  the  cast-off 
leathers.  When  the  sport  had  lasted  a  few  minutes,  Joe  sang 
out: 

"  Come  !  'nuff  ob  dat ;  now  ter  bis'ness.  Yere,  you  yaller 
monkeys"  (to  several  amalgamated  specimens  of  white  lead 
and  Spanish  brown),  "  tote  dese  'mong  'em." 

The  young  chattels  did  as  they  were  bidden,  and,  as  each 
heavy  brogan  was  fitted  to  the  pedal  extremity  of  some  one  of 
the  darkies,  the  newly-shod  individual  sprang  to  his  feet,  and 
commenced  dancing  about  as  if  he  were  the  happiest  mortal  in 
existence. 


A      PLANTATION      CHRISTMAS.  191 

u  Dat'm  it,"  shouted  Joe  ;  u  frow  up  you'  heels  ;  an'  some 
ob  you  gwo  an'  fotch  de  big  fiddle.  We'll  hab  a  dance,  an' 
show  dese  Nordern  gemmen  de  raal  poker." 

"  But  we  hain't  hed  de  dresses — nor  de  soogar — nor  de 
'backer — nor  none  ob  de  whiskey,"  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Shet  up,  you  brack  crows  I  You  can't  hab  anoder  ting 
till  ye'se  hed  a  high  ole  heel-scrapin'.  Yere,  massa  Joe  ;  you 
come  up  yere,  an'  holp  me  wid  de  'strum entals,"  said  Boss  Joe 
grinning  widely,  and  getting  up  on  the  carpenter's  bench. 

In  a  few  moments,  the  "  big  fiddle,"  one  or  two  smaller 
fiddles,  and  three  or  four  banjoes  were  brought  out,  and  the 
two  Joes,  and  several  ebony  gentlemen,  seating  themselves  on 
the  boxes  of  clothing,  began  tuning  the  instruments.  Soon 
u  Boss  Joe"  commenced  sawing  away  with  a  gusto  that  might 
have  been  considered  out  of  keeping  with  his  gray  hairs,  his 
sixty  years,  and  his  clerical  profession.  "  Massa  Joe  "  and  the 
others  striking  in,  the  male  and  female  darkies  paired  off  two 
by  two,  and  to  a  lively  air  began  dancing  a  sort  of  "  cotillion 
breakdown."  Other  dances  followed,  in  which  the  little  ne- 
groes joined,  and  soon  the  air  rang  with  the  creak  of  the  fiddles 
and  the  merry  shouts  of  the  negroes.  In  the  midst  of  it  my 
arm  was  touched  lightly,  and,  turning  round,  I  saw  Rosey  and 
Dinah. 

"  I'se  got  de  little  gal  yere,  massa,"  said  the  latter,  looking 
as  proud  as  a  hen  over  her  first  brood  of  chickens.  "  She  glad 
ter  see  'ou,  massa." 

I  gave  Rosey  my  hand,  and  made  a  few  good-natured  com- 
pliments on  her  beauty  and  her  tidy  appearance.  She  had  a 
simple,  guileless  expression,  and  met  my  half-bantering  remarks 
with  an  innocent  frankness  that  charmed  me.     She  was  only 


192  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIENDS. 

sixteen,  but  had  developed  into  a  beautiful  woman.  Her  form 
was  slight  and  graceful,  with  just  enough  embonpoint  to  give 
the  appearance  of  full  health ;  and  her  thin,  delicate  features, 
large,  wide-set  eyes,  and  clear,  rosy  complexion,  bore  a  strong 
resemblance  to  Selma's.  It  was  evident  they  were  children  of 
the  same  father ;  and  yet,  one  was  to  be  the  wife  of  a  poor 
negro,  the  other  to  marry  the  son  of  a  "  merchant  prince." 

As  the  dancing  concluded,  Boss  Joe's  fiddle  gave  out  a 
dying  scream,  and,  turning  to  me,  he  sang  out : 

"War  dar  eber  sprightlier  nigs  dan  dese,  massa  Kirke  ? 
Doan't  dey  beat  you'  country  folks  all  holler  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  do,  Joe.  They  handle  their  heels  as  nimbly  as 
elephants." 

I  spoke  the  truth  ;  most  of  them  did. 

The  distribution  of  the  presents  was  resumed  ;  and,  as  each 
negro  received  his  full  supply  of  flour,  sugar,  tea,  coffee,  mo- 
lasses, tobacco,  and  calico,  grinning  with  joy  over  his  new 
acquisitions,  he  staggered  off  to  his  quarters.  "When  the  last 
box  was  nearly  emptied,  with  young  Preston  and  Frank,  I 
adjourned  to  the  mansion. 

The  exterior  of  the  "  great  house  "  was  unchanged,  but  its 
interior  had  undergone  a  complete  transformation.  The  plain 
oak  flooring  of  the  hall  had  been  replaced  by  porcelain  tiling, 
and  the  neat,  simple  furniture  of  the  parlors  by  huge  mirrors ; 
rosewood  and  brocatelle  sofas  and  lounges ;  velvet  tapestry  car- 
pets, in  which  one's  feet  sank  almost  out  of  sight ;  and  im- 
mense paintings,  whose  aggregate  cost  might  have  paid  off  one 
half  of  the  mortgage  that  encumbered  the  plantation. 

Selma  and  her  father  were  engaged  in  earnest  conversa- 
tion when  we  entered  the  drawing  room,   and,  being  unwill- 

\ 


A     PLANTATION     CHRISTMAS.  193 

ing  to  interrupt  them,  I  was  about  to  retire,  but  he  rose,  and 
said : 

"  Come  in,  Kirke ;  I  will  call  Mrs.  Preston.  She  will  be 
glad  to  see  you." 

The  lady  soon  entered.  It  was  eight  years  since  we  had 
met,  but  time  had  touched  her  gently.  Her  face  wore  its  old, 
decided,  yet  quiet  expression,  and  her  manner  showed  the  easy 
self-possession  I  had  noticed  at  our  first  interview.  She  was 
richly  dressed,  and  had  on  a  heavy  satin  pelisse,  and  a"  blue 
velvet  bonnet,  as  if  about  to  ride  out. 

"When  the  usual  greetings  were  over,  she  remarked : 

"  You  have  been  here  some  time,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam  ;  we  arrived  about  two  hours  ago  ;  but  I 
met  some  old  friends  outside,  and  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them 
has  made  me  a  little  tardy  in  paying  my  respects  to  you." 

"  The  negroes,  you  mean,  sir,"  she  replied,  with  a  slight 
toss  of  the  head,  and  a  look  of  cool  dignity  which  well  became 
her. 

"  Yes,  madam  ;  I  have  many  friends  among  the  blacks. 
On  some  plantations  they  look  for  my  coming  as  they  do  for 
Christmas." 

"It  is  quite  rare  to  meet  a  white  gentleman  so  fond  of 
negroes,"  she  rejoined,  with  an  air  slightly  more  supercilious. 

I  remembered  her  as  the  humble  schoolmistress,  whose 
entire  possessions  were  packed  in  one  trunk ;  and,  forgetting 
myself,  said,  in  a  tone  which  bore  a  slight  trace  of  indignation : 

"  More  rare,  I  fear,   than  it  should  be  ;    but  you  and  I, 

madam,  who  are  Yankees,  and  have  '  worked  for  a  living,' 

cannot  surety  despise  the  negroes  because  they  are  compelled 

to  work  for  theirs." 
9 


194  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  Oh  !  no,  sir ;  not  by  any  means  !  But  you  must  excuse 
me ;  the  carriage  is  waiting  to  take  me  to  church ; "  and, 
rising,  she  bowed  herself  stiffly  out  of  the  door. 

M  Ah,  you  hit  her  there  !  "  exclaimed  Joe,  springing  to  his 
feet  in  great  glee,  and  striding  to  the  window.  V.  See  here, 
Mr.  Kirke !  See  what  a  turnout  the  Yankee  'schulemarm' 
has  worried  out  of  father !  " 

"  My  son,  you  must  not  speak  so ;  she  is  your  mother  !  " 
said  Preston. 

14  No,   I'm  d — d  if  she  is !      Call  her  anything  but  that, 

father;  that's- "      He  checked  himself;  but  I  thought  he 

would  have  added,  "  an  insult  to  my  dead  mother  1 " 

Preston  made  no  reply. 

Looking  out  of  the  window,  I  saw  Mrs.  Preston  being 
handed  into  a  magnificent  barouche  by  one  of  the  black  gentry 
she  so  much  despised.  Another,  in  gaudy  gold  livery,  sat  on 
the  box  ;  and  a  mounted  outrider,  also  bound  up  in  gold  braid, 
stood  behind  the  carriage. 

"  There's  a  two-thousand-dollar  turnout,  and  two  fifteen- 
hundred-dollar  niggers  to  tote  a  woman  who  ought  to  go  afoot. 
It's  a  poor  investment,  I  swear,"  said  Joe,  turning  away  from 
the  window. 

Preston  made  no  reply  ;  but  I  laughingly  remarked : 

"  Come,  Joe,  she  isn't  your  wife.  Let  your  father  spend 
his  money  as  he  pleases  ;  he  can  afford  it." 

"  He  can't  afford  it ;  that  woman  is  running  him  to  the 
devil  at  a  two-forty  gait.  You  have  more  influence  with  him 
than  any  one,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  do  try  to  stop  it !  " 

The  young  man  spoke  in  a  decided  but  regretful  tone,  and 
his  manner  showed  more  respect  to  his  father  than  his  words 


A     PLANTATION     CUEIST  MAS.  195 

implied.  Unwilling  to  interfere  in  such  an  affair,  I  said  noth- 
ing ;  but  Preston,  in  a  moment,  remarked  : 

"  It  is  true,  Kirke  !  Her  extravagance  has  ruined  my 
credit  at  home,  and  forced  me  to  use  Joe's  indorsements. 
Besides,  I  have  had  to  borrow  ten  thousand  dollars  of  him  to 
keep  my  head  above  water." 

[Mr.  James  Preston— the  Squire's  uncle— had  died  the 
year  before,  and  the  young  man  had  succeeded  to  his  large 
property  and  business.] 

I  was  thunderstruck  j  but,  before  I  could  reply,  Joe 
said :     • 

"I  don't  care  a  rush  for  the  money.  Father  can  have 
every  dollar  I've  got ;  but  I  do  want  to  see  him  rid  of  that 
woman.  I've  been  here  sick  for  two  months,  and  I've  seen 
the  whole.  She  is  worrying  the  very  life  out  of  him.  She's 
made  him  an  old  man  at  forty." 

It  was  true.  His  face  was  lean  and  haggard,  and  his  hair 
already  thickly  streaked  with  white. 

Preston  rose,  and,  walking  the  room,  said : 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  ?  You  yourself,  Joe,  would  not 
have  all  this  made  public.  You've  as  much  pride  about  it  as  I 
have." 

"  I've  not  a  bit  of  pride  about  it,  father ;  and  it's  public 
now.  Everybody  knows  it,  and  everybody  says  you  ought  to 
cut  her  adrift." 

"  What  had  I  better  do  ?  Tell  me,  my  friend,"  said  Pres- 
ton, still  walking  the  room. 

"I  cannot  advise  you,  Preston.  An  outsider  should  ex- 
press no  opinion  on  such  matters." 

In  a  moment,  Preston  said  : 


196  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  "Well,  Joe,  no  more  of  this  now.  I'll  do  what  is  right, 
however  much  it  may  wound  my  pride." 

The  conversation  turned  to  other  subjects,  till  Mrs.  Pres- 
ton's return  from  church,  shortly  after  which  dinner  was  an- 
nounced. The  lady  presided  at  the  table  with  as  much  ease 
and  grace  as  if  she  had  been  born  to  the  position ;  and,  in  her 
charming  conversation,  I  almost  forgot  the  revelations  of  the 
morning.  The  rest  of  the  day  I  spent  with  Joe  and  Frank, 
strolling  over  the  plantation,  and  mingling  with  the  negroes, 
who,  freed  from  work,  were  enjoying  themselves  in  a  very 
"  miscellaneous  manner."  Preston  remained  at  the  house  with 
Selma. 


CHAPTEK    XVIII 


FAMILY     JARS. 


It  was  nearly  dark  "when  we  returned  to  the  mansion. 
Looking  in  at  the  parlor,  and  not  finding  his  father  there,  Joe 
led  the  way  at  once  to  the  library.  The  door  was  ajar,  and,  as 
we  entered  the  passage  way,  loud  voices  were  issuing  from  it. 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Preston,  I  am  mistress  of  this  plantation. 
He  shall  not  go  !  " 

"Pardon  me,  madam,  he  shall,  and  to-night,"  returned  a 
mild  but  decided  voice,  which  I  recognized  as  Preston's. 
Being  unwilling  to  overhear  more,  I  turned  away,  but  Joe 
caught  me  by  the  arm,  exclaiming : 

"  If  you  are  my  father's  friend,  go  in.  If  you  don't,  he 
will  back  down  ;  he  has  done  so  forty  times." 

Preston  was  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  firmness,  but  his 
wife  had  the  stronger  will.  She  seemed  possessed  of  a  sort  of 
magnetic  power,  which  enabled  her  to  control  others  almost 
arbitrarily. 

Reluctantly  I  followed  the  young  man  into  the  room. 
Preston  was  seated  before  the  fire,  and  Selma,  "with  her  arm 
about  his  neck,  was  standing  near  him.  Mulock,  better  clad 
than  when  I  witnessed  his  purchase  by  the  "  fast "  young 
planter,  but  wearing  a  sullen,  dogged  expression,  was  leaning 


198  MY     SOUTHERN     FKIENDS. 

against  the  centre  table ;  and  Mrs.  Preston,  gesticulating 
wildly,  and  her  face  glowing  with  mingled  rage  and  defiance, 
stood  within  a  few  feet  of  her  husband.  Not  heeding  our 
entrance,  she  exclaimed : 

"  I  will  have  my  way.  If  you  send  him  off,  I  will  never 
darken  your  doors  again." 

"  That  is  as  you  please,  madam,"  replied  Preston.  M  Mr. 
Kirke  and  Frank,  pray  be  seated." 

Stung  by  her  husband's  coolness,  the  lady  turned  fiercely 
upon  Joe,  and,  shaking  her  clenched  hand  in  his  face,  cried 
out : 

"  This  is  your  work.  I  will  teach  you  better  than  to  med- 
dle in  my  affairs." 

jf  Madam,  you  act  well,"  said  the  young  man,  taking  a  step 
toward  the  door.  "  Pray  come  out  to  the  quarters ;  poor  as 
they  are,  every  negro  will  give  a  bit  to  see  you  play." 

In  uncontrollable  rage,  she  struck  him  a  smart  blow  in  the 
face,  and  rushed  from  the  room. 

When  she  had  gone,  Preston  turned  to  Mulock : 

"  Now  go.  The  amount  due  you  I  shall  retain  to  offset,  in 
part,  what  you  have  tempted  the  negroes  to  steal.  You  can 
come  here  once  a  week — on  Sunday — to  see  Phylly ;  but  if 
you  have  any  more  dealings  with  the  hands,  I  will  prosecute 
you  on  the  instant." 

Mulock  rose,  put  on  his  slouched  hat,  and,  a  dull  fire  burn- 
ing in  his  cold,  snakelike  eyes,  slowly  said : 

"  Wall,  Squire,  I'll  gwo ;  but  'counts  'tween  you  an'  me 
ain't  settled  yit." 

As  he  went,  Selma  leaned  forward,  and,  kissing  Preston's 
cheek,  said : 


FAMILY     JARS.  199 

"  0  father  I  I'm  so  glad  you  didn't  speak  harshly  to  her." 

Preston  put  his  arm  about  her,  and  replied : 

M  You  helped  me,  my  child.  I  should  be  a  better,  happier 
man,  if  you  were  with  me." 

"  And  I  will  be,  father  ;  I  won't  go  away  any  more." 

"  But  Frank  ?  "  said  Preston,  again  kissing  her. 

"  Oh  !  you  know  we're  not  to  be  married  for  a  good  while 
yet.     I'll  stay  with  you  till  then,  father." 

"  Ah !  there  she  goes,"  said  Joe,  looking  out  at  the  win- 
dow, which  commanded  a  view  of  the  porte  cochere ;  "  she 
can't  get  to  Newbern  till  ten ;  but  the  night  air  won't  hurt 
her." 

"  Then  she  makes  Newbern  her  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  spends  the  winters  there ;  she  came  here  only 
yesterday." 


CHAPTEK     XIX. 

THE      NEGRO      WEDDING. 

Ally  and  Rosey  were  to  be  married  *  in  the  little  church  ; 
and,  directly  after  supper,  we  all  went  to  the  wedding.  The 
seats  had  been  removed  from  the  centre  of  the  building,  for, 
though  duly  consecrated  to  the  use  of  the  saints,  the  sinners 
were  to  exercise  their  heels  in  it  after  the  ceremony  was  over. 
At  its  farther  extremity,  the  carpenter's  bench  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  elongated  at  both  ends,  and  covered  with  a  white  table 
cloth,  was  piled  high  with  eatables ;  indicating  that  a  time  of 
"  great  refreshment "  was  at  hand.  The  bounteous  supply  of 
ham,  chicken,  wild  duck,  roast  pig,  fish,  hoecake,  wheat  bread, 
tea,  coffee,  milk,  and  pumpkin  and  sweet-potato  pies,  under 
which  the  bench  groaned,  showed  that  some  liberal  hand  had 
catered  for  the  occasion. 

Black  Joe,  dressed  in  his  "Sunday  best,"  was  seated  on  the 
rustic  settee  at  the  back  of  the  desk,  and  Phyllis  and  Dinah 
occupied  chairs  inside  the  low  railing  which  faced  the  pulpit. 
Phyllis  looked  careworn  and  sad,  but  Ally's  mother  was  as 
radiant  as  a  brass  kettle  in  a  blaze  of  light  wood.     She  wore  a 


*  Usually  there  is  no  marriage  ceremony  performed  at  the  union  of  slaves. 
They  simply  agree,  tacitly  or  otherwise,  to  live  together  till  death  or  their  master 
parts  them. 


A      N  E  G  It  O      WEDDING.  201* 

white  dress,  stiffly  starched,  and  expanded  by  immense  hoops, 
and  a  crimped  nightcap,  whose  broad  border  flapped  about  like 
the  wings  of  a  crowing  rooster  ;  and  she  looked,  for  all  the 
world,  like  a  black  ghost  in  a  winding  sheet,  escaped  from 
below,  and  bound  on  a  "  good  time  generally."  Two  "  shining 
lights,"  on  either  side  of  the  pulpit,  held  aloft  blazing  torches 
of  pine,  illuminating  the  sea  of  grinning  darkness,  and  send- 
ing up  a  smoke  like  that  arising  from  the  pit  which  is  said  to 
be  bottomless.  About  a  hundred  darkies  were  present ;  and 
the  number  of  glossy  coats,  fancy  turbans,  gaudy  bonnets,  red 
shawls,  and  flaming  dresses,  which  the  light  disclosed,  was 
amazing.  The  poor  worm  that  grubbed  in  the  earth  had 
appeared  ("  for  that  occasion  only")  as  a  butterfly  ;  and  Laza- 
rus, rid  of  his  rags,  had  come  forth  dressed  like  a  Broadway 
dandy. 

Any  person  of  sensitive  olfactories  would  have  halted  in 
the  doorway ;  but  I  elbowed  through  the  woolly  gathering, 
and  followed  Frank  and  Selma  to  the  famity  pew.  Tittering, 
laughing,  and  flaunting  their  red  and  yellow  kerchiefs,  the 
black  people  were  enjoying  themselves  amazingly,  when  "  Dar 
dey  comes,"  "Dar'm  de  happy  pussons,"  went  round  the  assem- 
blage, and  the  bride  and  groom,  attended  by  two  sable  couples, 
entered  the  building.  After  some  ludicrous  mistakes,  they  got 
"into  position"  in  front  of  the  railing,  and  Black  Joe  took  a 
stand  before  them. 

Rosey  was  dressed  in  white,  with  a  neat  fillet  of  pink  and 
blue  ribbon  about  her  head  ;  and  Ally  wore  a  black  frock  coat, 
with  white  vest,  and  white  cotton  gloves.  One  of  the  grooms- 
men— a  rustic  beau  from  a  neighboring  plantation — wore  an 
immensely  long-tailed  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons,  a  flaming 
9* 


202  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

red  waistcoat,  yellow  woollen  mittens,  and  a  neckerchief  that 
looked  like  a  secession  flag  hugging  a  lamppost.  Both  of  these 
gentry  had  hats  of  stovepipe  pattern,  very  tall,  and  with  nar- 
row brims  ;  and — they  wore  them  during  the  ceremony. 

"Silence  in  de  meetin',"  cried  Joe. 

The  boisterous  sea  of  black  wool  subsided  to  a  dead  calm. 
Those  not  already  standing,  rose,  and  Joe  commenced  reading 
the  marriage  service  of  the  Episcopal  Church. 

The  parties  immediately  interested  appeared  to  have  conned 
their  lessons  well,  for  they  made  all  the  responses  with  great 
propriety ;  but  some  of  the  congregation  seemed  less  familiar 
with  the  service.  "When  Joe  repeated  the  words,  u  If  ony 
man  kin  show  cause  why  dese  folks  should  not  be  lawfully 
jined  togedder,  lefF  him  now  speak,  or  else  foreber  hole  his 
peace,"  Dinah  turned  to  the  audience,  and  cried  out : 

"  Yas,  jess  leff  him  come  out  wid  it  now.  I'd  like  ter  see 
de  man  dat's  got  onyting  agin  it." 

No  one  appeared  to  have  "  onyting  agin  it,"  and  Joe  pro- 
ceeded to  read  the  words  :  M  I  require  and  charge  you,  if  either 
of  you  know  any  impediment,"  etc.  In  the  midst  of  it,  a 
voice  called  out : 

"  Dar  ain't  no  'pedimen',  Boss  Joe ;  I  knows  dat.  Gwo 
on,  sar  !  "  "  Dat's  so,  hrudder,"  said  another  voice.  "  Dat's 
de  Lord's  trufh,"  echoed  a  third.  "  Doan't  be  'sturbin'  de 
meetin' ;  de  young  folks  want  de  splicin'  done,"  cried  a  fourth  ; 
and  "  Amen,"  shouted  a  dozen. 

"  Shet  up,  all  on  you  !  "  yelled  Joe,  turning  on  them  with 
an  imperious  gesture.  "  Ef  you  hain't  no  more  manners  dan 
dat,  clar  out." 

Silence  soon  ensued,  and  Joe  went  on  without  interruption 


A      NEGKO      WEDDING.  203 

to  the  place  where  the  minister  asks  the  bridegroom  :  "  Wilt 
thou  have  this  woman  to  thy  wedded  wife  ?  "  Then  Dinah, 
unable  to  contain  herself  longer,  joyfully  exclaimed  : 

"  Ob  course  he  will !  Ony  youn'  feller'd  be  glad  to  hab 
Aar." 

[Never  having  gone  through  the  ceremony  herself,  the 
poor  woman  could  not  be  expected  to  know  what  was  appro- 
priate to  the  occasion.] 

No  further  interruption  occurred,  and  soon  the  happy  couple 
were  "  bone  of  one  bone,  and  flesh  of  one  flesh."  The  assem- 
blage still  standing,  Joe  then  turned  to  Ally  and  Rosey,  and, 
with  a  manner  so  solemn  and  impressive  that  he  seemed  alto- 
gether a  different  person  from  the  merry  darky  who  had 
entered  so  heartily  into  the  "  high  ole  heel-scrapin'  "  of  the 
morning,  he  spoke  somewhat  as  follows  : 

"  My  chil'ren,  lub  one  anoder ;  bar  wid  one  anoder ;  be 
faithful  ter  one  anoder.  You  hab  started  on  a  long  journey  y 
many  rough  places  am  in  de  road ;  many  trubbles  will  spring 
up  by  de  wayside ;  but  gwo  on  hand  an'  hand  togedder ;  lub 
one  anoder,  an',  no  matter  what  come  onter  you,  you  will  be 
happy — fur  lub  will  sweeten  ebery  sorrer,  lighten  ebery  load, 
make  de  sun  shine  in  eben  de  bery  cloudiest  wedder.  I  knows 
it  will,  my  chil'ren,  'case  1'se  been  ober  de  groun'.  Ole  Aggy 
an'  I  hab  trabbled  *de  road.  Hand  in  hand  we  hab  gone  ober 
de  rocks ;  fru  de  mud ;  in  de  hot,  burnin'  sand ;  been  out  to- 
gedder in  de  cole,  an'  de  rain,  an'  de  storm,  fur  nigh  onter  forty 
yar,  but  we  hab  clung  ter  one  anoder;  we  hab  lub'd  one 
anoder ;  an'  fru  eberyting,  in  de  bery  darkest  days,  de  sun  ob 
joy  an'  peace  hab  broke  fru  de  clouds,  an'  sent  him  blessed 
rays  inter  our  hearts.     We  started  jess  like  two  young  saplin's 


204  MY      SOUTHERN      FSI2NDS. 

you's  seed  a  growin'  side  by  side  in  de  woods.  At  fust  we 
seemed  'way  'part,  fur  de  brambles,  an'  de  tick  bushes,  an'  de 
ugly  forns — dem  war  our  bad  ways — war  atween  us  ;  but  lub, 
like  de  sun,  shone  down  on  us,  an'  we  grow'd.  We  grow'd  till 
our  heads  got  above  de  bushes ;  till  dis  little  branch  an'  dat 
little  branch — dem  war  our  holy  feelin's — put  out  toward  one 
anoder,  an'  we  come  closer  an'  closer  togedder.  An'  dough 
wTe'm  ole  trees  now,  an'  sometime  de  wind  blow,  an'  de  storm 
rage  fru  de  tops,  an'  freaten  ter  tear  off  de  limbs,  an'  ter  pull 
up  de  bery  roots,  we'm  growin'  closer  an'  closer,  an'  nearer  an' 
nearer  togedder  ebery  day.  An'  soon  de  ole  tops  will  meet ; 
soon  de  ole  branches,  all  cobered  ober  wid  de  gray  moss,  will 
twine  roun'  one  anoder ;  soon  de  two  ole  trees  will  come 
togedder,  an'  grow  inter  one  foreber — grow  inter  one  up  dar  in 
de  sky,  whar  de  wind  neber'll  blow,  whar  de  storm  neber'll 
beat ;  whar  we  shill  blossom  an'  bar  fruit  ter  de  glory  ob  de 
Lord,  an'  in  His  heabenly  kingdom  foreber ! 

"  Yas,  my  chil'ren,  you  hab  started  on  a  long  journey,  an' 
nuffin'  will  git  you  fru  it  but  lub.  Nuffin'  will  hole  you  up, 
nuffin'  will  keep  you  faithful  ter  one  anoder,  nuffin'  will  make 
you  bar  wid  one  anoder,  but  dat.  None  ob  us  kin  lib  widout 
it ;  but  married  folks  want  it  most  ob  all.  Dey  need  it  more 
dan  de  bread  dey  eat,  de  water  dey  drink,  or  de  air  dey  breafe. 
De  worle  couldn't  gwo  on  widout  it.  De  bery  sun  would  gwo 
out  in  de  heabens,  but  fur  dat !  An'  shill  I  tell  you  why  ? 
You  hab  heerd  massa  Robert  talk  'bout  de  great  law  dat  make 
de  apple  fall  from  de  tree,  de  rock  sink  in  de  water ;  dat  bines 
our  feet  ter  de  roun'  'arth,  so  we  doan't  drap  off  as  it  gwo  fru 
de  air ;  dat  holes  de  sun  an'  de  stars  in  dar  'pointed  places,  so 
dat,   day  after  day,   an'  yar  after  yar,  dough  dey'm  trabblin' 


A     NEGKU     W  B  D  D  I  x  « ; .  205 

r  dan  de  lightnin'  ebei  went,  dey'm  right  whar  dej  should 
be.  He  call  it  'traction,  an'  all  de  great  men  call  it  so ;  but 
dat  ain't  de  name  !  It  am  lub.  It  am  God,  fur  God  am 
lub,  an'  lub  am  God  ;  an'  lub  bines  de  whole  creashun  toged- 
der !  An'  shill  I  tell  you  how  it  do  it  ?  Does  you  see  dis 
hand  ?  how  I  open  de  fingers  ;  how  I  shet'm  up  ;  how  I  rise 
de  whole  arm  ?  Does  you  see  dis  foot,  dat  I  does  wid  jess  de 
same  ?  Does  you  see  dis  whole  body — how  I  make  it,  in  a 
twinklin',  do  jess  what  I  like  ?  Now,  what  am  it  dat  make  my 
hand  move,  an'  my  whole  body  turn  roun'  so  sudden,  dat  I'se 
only  ter  say,  'Do  it,'  an'  it'm  done?  Why,  it  am  me.  It'm 
7ne,  dat  libs  up  yere  in  de  brain,  an'  sends  my  will  fru  ebery 
part — fru  ebery  siner,  an'  ebery  muscle,  an'  ebery  little  jint,  an' 
make'm  all  do  jess  what  I  like.  Now,  man  am  made  in  de 
image  ob  God,  an'  dis  pore,  weak  ole  body  am  a  small  pattern 
ob  de  whole  creashun.  Eberyting  gwo  on  jess  as  it  do. 
Eberyting  am  held  togedder,  an'  moved  'bout,  jess  as  it  am  ; 
but  it'm  God  dat  move  it,  not  me  !  He  libs  up  dar  in  de  sky 
— which  am  His  brain — wid  de  stars  fur  His  hands,  de  planets 
fur  His  feet,  an'  de  whole  univarse  fur  His  body  ;  an'  He  sends 
His  will — which  am  lub — fru  ebery  part  ob  de  whole,  an* 
moves  it  'bout,  an'  make  it  do  jess  as  He  likes.  So  you  see  it 
am  my  wiD,  sent  fru  ebery  muscle  an'  ebery  little  siner,  dat 
moves  my  body ;  so  it  am  His  will,  sent  fru  what  de  'strono- 
mers  an'  de  poets  call  de  heabenly  ether,  dat  moves  His  body 
— which  am  de  'arth,  an'  de  sun,  an'  de  stars,  an'  you  an'  me, 
an'  ebery  libin'  ting  in  all  creashun  !  His  will  move  'em  all ; 
an'  His  will  am  lub  !  An'  doan't  you  see  dat  you  can't  do 
widout  His  lub  ?  dat  it  am  de  bery  breaf  ob  life  ?  dat,  ef  it 
war  tooken  'way  from  you,   fur  jess  one  moment,  you'd  drap 


206  MY     SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

down,  an'  die,  an'  neber  come  ter  life  agin — no,  not  in  dis 
worle,  nor  in  any  oder  worle  ?  It  am  so,  my  chil'ren ;  an'  de 
more  you  hab  ob  dat  lub,  de  happier  you'll  be ;  de  more  you'll 
lub  one  anoder ;  de  easier  you'll  gwo  fru  you'  life  ;  de  more 
joyfuller  you'll  meet  you  deaf  h ;  de  happier  you'll  be  all  fru 
de  long,  long  ages  dat'm  comin'  in  de  great  Yereafter  !  Den, 
O  my  chil'ren !  lub  God — lub  one  anoder !  You  can't  be 
happy  widout  you  lub  God  ;  an'  you  can't  lub  Him  widout  you 
lub  one  anoder  !  " 

When  Joe  concluded,  he  saluted  the  bride  in  a  manner 
that  many  another  sooty  gentleman  present  would  have  been 
very  glad  to  imitate,  and  then  took  a  stand  at  the  head  of 
the  supper  table.  An  immense  tureen,  filled  with  steam- 
ing oysters,  was  soon  brought  in  and  placed  before  him,  and, 
looking  up,  he  said  grace  ;  thanking  Him  who  feedeth  the 
ravens  for  putting  it  into  his  master's  heart  to  feed  His  other 
black  creatures,  the  darkies  present  on  that  occasion.  He 
asked  for  his  master  many  a  happy  "  Chrismus  down  yere," 
and  an  eternal  "  Chrismus  in  heaben,"  and  he  added :  "  An', 
knowin'  dat  Dou  hatest  long  prayers,  an'  long  faces,  an'  dose 
folks  dat  gwo  'bout  grumblin',  as  ef  Dy  happy  'arth  war  nuffin' 
but  a  graveyard ;  leff  us  enjoy  dis  feast  an'  dis  day  as  Dy 
true  chil'ren — de  chil'ren  ob  a  good  Fader,  who  am  all  joy  an' 
all  gladness ;  an',  while  we'm  eatin'  an'  drinkin'  an'  dancin', 
may  we  make  merry  in  our  hearts  ter  Dee.     Amen." 

As  he  concluded,  Preston  stepped  to  his  side,  and,  taking 
the  big  ladle  from  his  hand,  said  : 

"  Stand  aside,  Joe ;  you  have  done  enough  work  for  to- 
night ; "  then,  turning  to  "  we  white  folks  "  in  the  family  pew, 
he  added :   "  If  any  man  among  you  would  be  master,  let  him 


A     NEGRO     WEDDING.  207 

now  be  the  servant  of  all.  Let  him  try  his  hand  at  the 
waiter  business,  and  see  if  he  can't  throw  these  shady  people 
into  the  shade" 

"  Massa  Joe "  and  I  went  forward,  and,  tying  the  ne- 
groes' aprons  about  our  waists,  took  appropriate  places  beside 
the  table. 

"  Now  all  of  you  find  seats,"  cried  Preston  ;  and,  amid  a 
hurricane  of  giggling  and  merry  laughter,  the  black  people 
seated  themselves  on  the  floor,  on  the  platform,  and  on  the  row 
of  benches  ranged  along  the  walls.  Preston  proceeded  to  fill 
up  the  bowls  with  the  savory  stew,  and  we  dispensed  the  eat- 
ables among  them,  and  for  half  an  hour  I  witnessed  as  much 
enjoyment  as  often  falls  to  the  lot  of  black  sinners  in  this  "  vale 
of  tears." 

"  Now,  ef  dis  doan't  beat  all ! "  exclaimed  old  Dinah,  as  I 
handed  her  a  huge  chunk  of  gingerbread  ;  u  ef  'ou  ain't  right 
smart  at  waitin',  massa  Kirke,  I'd  like  ter  know  it." 

"Keep  dark,  ole  'ooman,"  shouted  Black  Joe  ;  "doan't  you 
say  nuffin'  'bout  dat,  or  de  traders'll  hab  a  hole  ob  him.  He'd 
sell  fur  a  right  likely  hand,  shore." 

"I  woan't  do  nuffin'  but  keep  dark,  Boss  Joe,"  rejoined 
Dinah,  grinning  till  her  face  opened  from  ear  to  ear.  "  I'll  hab 
'ou  know,  sar,  dat  nary  ones  but  white  ladies  paints  !  " 

"Good  fur  you,  ole  lady,"  cried  the  preacher.  "After  dat 
you'll  gib  me  de  pleasure  ob  your  hand  in  de  fuss  dance." 

"  Ob  course  I  will,  mister  Joe  ;  an'  ef  'ou'm  tired  ob  de  ole 
'ooman,  I'll  gib  'ou  my  han'  in  anoder  dance." 

"  No,  you  woan't ;  I  doan't  gwo  fur  second  marridges," 
rejoined  Joe,  looking  slyly  at  Preston ;  "  dey  ain't  made  in 
heaben." 


208  MY      SOUTH  E  UN      FBIfiNDS. 

"  No  more  dey  ain't,"  said  the  old  woman,  heaving  a  long 
sigh,  and  also  looking  at  Preston. 

"  You  ain't  a  gwine  ter  leff  dese  folks  dance  in  de  church, 
am  you,  Boss  Joe  ?  "  asked  a  prim,  demure-looking  darky,  in 
a  black  suit,  with  a  white  neckerchief  and  stnT  shirt  collar; 
probably  some  neighboring  preacher. 

u  I  reckon  so,"  replied  Joe,  dryly. 

"  An'  /  reckons  so,  too,  Mister  I-scare-'ou-out  (Iscariot)," 
cried  the  old  negress.  "  Ain't  de  planets  de  Lord's  feet,  an' 
doan't  dey  dance  ?  I  reckons  we  ain't  no  better  dan  de  Lord 
am  an'  ef  He  mobes  him  feet,  'ou'd  better  mobe  'our'n.  We 
b'lieve  in  sarvin'  Him  wid  our  ban's,  an'  our  feet,  too ;  we 
does,  Mister  I-scare-'ou-out." 

She  did  scare  him  out,  for  the  "  pious  gemman "  left  sud- 
denly. 

When  about  all  of  the  eatables  had  found  their  way  down 
the  cavernous — and  ravenous — throats  of  the  darkies,  Boss 
Joe  rose,  and  called  out : 

"  Yere,  you  massa  Joe.  you  pull  off  you'  apern,  an'  take  de 
big  fiddle.     I'm  'gaged  fur  de  fuss  dance." 

Young  Preston  seated  himself  on  the  platform,  and  several 
sable  gentlemen,  with  banjoes  and  fiddles,  took  places  beside 
him. 

"  Now  all  you  men  folks  s'lect  you'  pardners,"  cried  the 
preacher,  taking  Dinah  by  the  hand,  and  leading  her  out  to  the 
middle  of  the  floor. 

They  all  paired  off,  the  fiddles  broke  into  a  merry  tune,  and 
soon  the  little  church,  which  had  so  often  echoed  with  the 
groans  of  the  saints,  shook  with  the  heels  of  the  sinners. 
"When  the  first  dance  was  over,  Boss  Joe  again  called  out : 


A     NEGRO     WEDDING.  209 

"Now,  massa  Joe,  strike  up  de  waTzj  Dinah  an'  I  am 
gwine  ter  show  dese  folks  some  highfalutin  dancin'." 

The  waltz  struck  up,  and  off  they  whirled.  Dinah  went 
into  it  as  if  she  were  working  for  pay ;  and  as  Joe  held  her 
closely  in  his  arms,  her  wide  hoops  expanded  till  she  looked 
like  a  topsail  schooner  scudding  under  bare  poles. 

While  Joe  was  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  face,  at  the 
end  of  the  waltz,  an  old  negro  entered,  and  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear.  Joe's  countenance  fell,  and,  without  saying 
a  word,  he  left  the  room. 

"  Massa  Joe,"  relinquishing  the  big  fiddle,  then  took  the 
floor  with  Rosey,  and  gave  the  audience  a  genuine  breakdown. 
His  heels  bobbed  about  like  balls  at  a  cricket  match,  and 
Rosey's  petticoats  fluttered  like  the  contents  of  a  clothes  line 
caught  out  in  a  hurricane.  A  better-looking  couple  were 
never  seen  in  a  ball  room. 

"He's  a  natural  born  darky,"  said  his  father,  laughing; 
11  he  takes  to  dancing  as  a  duck  takes  to  water." 

A  general  dance  followed.  In  the  midst  of  it  the  old 
negro  who  had  called  Joe  out,  again  came  in,  and,  making  his 
way  to  where  Preston  and  I  were  standing,  he  said,  in  a  low 
tone : 

"  Massa  Robert,  ole  Jack  am  dyin' ;  will  'ou  come  ?  " 
"Dying!"    exclaimed   Preston.     "Yes,   I'll    be    there    at 
once.     Kirke,  you  remember  the  old  man ;  come  with  me." 


CHAPTER    XX. 


A     DEATHBED. 


The  moon  and  the  stars  were  out,  and  the  tall,  dark  pines 
cast  long,  gloomy  shadows  over  the  little  rows  of  negro  houses 
which  formed  the  rearguard  to  Preston's  mansion.  They  were 
nearly  deserted.  Not  a  solitary  fire  slumbered  on  the  bare 
clay  hearths,  and  not  a  single  darky  stood  sentry  over  the 
loose  pork  and  neglected  hoecakes,  or  kept  at  bay  the  army  of 
huge  rats  and  prowling  opossums  which  beleaguered  the  quar- 
ters. Silence — death's  music — was  over  and  around  them. 
The  noisy  revelry  of  the  dancers  had  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  even  the  hoarse  song  of  the  great  trees  had  sunk  to 
a  low  moan,  as  they  stood,  motionless  and  abashed,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  grim  giant  who  knocks  alike  at  the  palace  and  the 
cottage  gate. 

A  stray  light  glimmered  through  the  logs  of  a  low  hut,  far 
off  in  the  woods,  and,  making  our  way  to  it,  we  entered.  A 
bright  fire  lit  up  the  interior,  and  on  a  rude  cot,  in  one  corner, 
lay  the  old  preacher.  His  eyes  were  closed  ;  a  cold,  clammy 
sweat  was  on  his  forehead — he  was  dying.  One  of  his  skele- 
ton hands  rested  on  the  tattered  coverlet,  and  his  weazened 
face  was  half  buried  in  a  dilapidated  pillow,  whose  ragged 
casing  and  protruding  plumage  bespoke  it  a  relic  of  some 
departed  white  sleeper. 


A      DEATHBED.  211 

An  old  negress,  with  gray  hair  and  haggard  visage,  sat  at 
the  foofr  of  the  bed,  wailing  piteously ;  and  Joe  and  half  a 
dozen  aged  saints  stood  around,  singing  a  hymn,  doleful  enough 
to  have  made  even  a  sinner  weep. 

Not  heeding  our  entrance,  Joe  took  the  dying  man  by  the 
hand,  and,  in  a  slow,  solemn  voice,  said  : 

"  Brudder  Jack,  you'm  dyin' ;  you'm  gwine  ter  dat  Ian' 
whence  no  trabeller  returns ;  you'm  settin'  out  fur  dat  coun- 
try which'm  lit  by  de  smile  ob  de  Lord ;  whar  dar  ain't  no 
sickness,  no  pain,  no  sorrer,  no  dyin' ;  fur  dat  kingdom  whar 
de  Lord  reigns ;  whar  truf  h  flows  on  like  a  riber ;  whar 
righteousness  springs  up  like  de  grass,  an*  lub  draps  down  like 
de  dew,  an'  cobers  de  face  ob  de  groun' ;  whar  you  woan't 
gwo  'bout  wid  no  crutch ;  whar  you  woan't  lib  in  no  ole  cabin 
like  dis,  an'  eat  hoecake  an'  salt  pork  in  sorrer  an'  heabiness  ob 
soul ;  but  whar  you'll  run  an-'  not  be  weary,  an'  walk  an'  not 
be  faint ;  whar  you'll  hab  a  hous'n  builded  ob  de  Lord,  an'  sit 
at  His  table — you'  meat  an'  drink  de  bread  an'  de  water  ob 
life! 

"  I  knows  you's  a  sinner,  Jack ;  I  knows  you's  lub'd  de 
hot  water  too  much,  an'  dat  it  make  you  forgit  you'  duty 
sometime,  an'  set  a  bad  'zample  ter  dem  as  looked  up  ter  you 
fur  better  tings ;  but  dar  am  mercy  wid  de  Lord,  Jack ;  dar 
am  forgibness  wid  Hirn  ;  an'  I  hopes  you'm  ready  an'  willin' 
ter  gwo." 

Old  Jack  opened  his  eyes,  and,  in  a  low,  peevish  tone, 
said : 

u  Joe,  none  ob  you'  nonsense  ter  me  !  I'se  hard  you  talk 
dis  way  afore.  You  can't  preach — you  neber  could.  You  jess 
knows  I  ain't  fit  ter  trabble,  an'  I  ain't  willin'  ter  gwo,  nowhar." 


212  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Joe  mildly  rebuked  him,  and  again  commenced  expatiating 
on  the  "  upper  kingdom,"  and  on  the  glories  of  "  the  house  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens ;  "  but  the  old  darky 
cut  him  short,  with — 

u  Shet  up,  Joe  !  no  more  ob  dat.  I  doan't  want  no  oder 
hous'n  but  dis — dis  ole  cabin  am  good  'miff  fur  me." 

Joe  was  about  to  reply,  when  Preston  stepped  to  the 
bedside,  and,  taking  the  aged  preacher's  hand,  said : 

"  My  good  Jack,  master  Robert  has  come  to  see  you." 
The  dying  man  turned  his  eyes  toward  his  master,  and,  in 
a  weak,  tremulous  voice,  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh  !  massa  Robert,  has  you  come  ?  has  you  come  ter  see 
ole  Jack  ?  Bress  you,  massa  Robert,  bress  you !  Jack 
know'd  you'd  neber  leab  him  yere  ter  die  alone." 

"  No,  my  good  Jack ;  I  would  save  you,  if  I  could." 
"  But  you  can't  sabe  me,  massa  Robert ;  I'se  b'yond  dat. 
I'se  dyin',  massa  Robert.     I'se  gwine  ter  de  good  missus.     She 
tell'd  me  ter  git  ready  ter  foller  har,  an'  I  is.     I'se  gwine  ter 
har  now,  massa  Robert !  " 

u  I  know  you  are,  Jack.     I  feel  sure  you  are." 
"  Tank   you,    massa    Robert  —  tank   you   fur   sayin'    dat. 
An'   woan't   you   pray  fur  me,   massa   Robert — jess  a  little 
pray?     De  good  man's  prayer  am  h'ard,  you  knows,  massa 
Robert ! " 

All  kneeling  down  on  the  rough  floor,  Preston  prayed — a 
short,  simple,  fervent  prayer.  At  its  close,  he  rose,  and,  bend- 
ing over  the  old  negro,  said : 

"  The  Lord  is  good,  Jack  ;  His  mercy  is  everlasting." 
"  I  knows  dat ;  I  feels  dat,"  gasped  the  dying  man.     "  I 
lubs  you,  massa  Robert ;  I  allers  lub'd  you ;  but  I'se  gwine  ter 


A     DEATUBED.  213 

leab  you  now.     Bress  you  !  de  Lord  bress  you,  massa  Robert ! 

I'll  tell  de  good  missus " 

He  clutched  convulsively  at  his  master's  hand ;  a  wild  light 
came  out  of  his  eyes ;  a  sudden  spasm  passed  over  his  face, 
and — he  was  "  gone  whar  de  good  darkies  go." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SOUTHERN      CHIVALRY. 

On  the  following  day,  Frank  and  I  were  to  resume  our 
journey ;  and,  in  the  morning,  I  suggested  that  we  should  visit 
Colonel  Dawsey,  with  whom,  though  he  had  for  many  years 
been  a  correspondent  of  the  house  in  which  I  was  a  partner,  I 
had  no  personal  acquaintance. 

His  plantation  adjoined  Preston's,  and  his  house  was  only 
a  short  half  mile  from  my  friend's.  After  breakfast,  we  set 
out  for  it  through  the  woods.  The  day  was  cold  for  the  sea- 
son, with  a  sharp,  nipping  air,  and  our  overcoats  were  not  at 
all  uncomfortable. 

As  we  walked  along,  I  said  to  Preston : 

"  Dawsey's  'account'  is  a  good  one.  He  never  draws 
against  shipments,  but  holds  on,  and  sells  sight  drafts,  thus 
making  the  exchange." 

11  Yes,  I  know  ;  he's  a  close  calculator." 

11  Does  he  continue  to  manage  his  negroes  as  formerly  ?  " 

11  In  much  the  same  way,  I  reckon." 

"  Then  he  can't  stand  remarkably  well  with  his  neighbors." 

"  Oh !  people  round  here  don't  mind  such  things.  Many 
of  them  do  as  badly  as  he.  Besides,  Dawsey  is  a  gentleman 
of  good  family.  He  inherited  his  plantation  and  two  hundred 
hands." 


SOUTHERN     CHIVALRY.  215 

"  Indeed  I  How,  then,  did  he  become  reduced  to  his  pres- 
ent number  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  wild  young  fellow,  and,  before  he  was  twenty- 
five,  had  squandered  and  gambled  away  everything  but  his 
land  and  some  thirty  negroes.  Then  he  turned  square  round, 
and,  from  being  prodigal  and  careless,  became  mean  and  cruel. 
He  has  a  hundred  now,  and  more  ready  money  than  any 
planter  in  the  district." 

A  half  hour's  walk  took  us  to  Dawsey's  negro  quarters — a 
collection  of  about  thirty  low  huts  in  the  rear  of  his  house. 
They  were  not  so  poor  as  some  I  had  seen  on  cotton  and  rice 
plantations,  but  they  seemed  unfit  for  the  habitation  of  any 
animal  but  the  hog.  Their  floors  were  the  bare  ground,  hard- 
ened by  being  moistened  with  water  and  pounded  with  mauls  ; 
and  worn,  as  they  were,  several  inches  lower  in  the  centre  than 
at  the  sides,  they  must  have  formed,  in  rainy  weather,  the  bed3 
of  small  lakes.  So  much  water  would  have  been  objectionable 
to  white  tenants ;  but  negroes,  like  their  friends  the  alligators, 
are  amphibious  animals ;  and  Dawsey's  were  never  known  to 
make  complaint.  The  chimneys  were  often  merely  vent-holes 
in  the  roof,  though  a  few  were  tumbledowTn  structures  of  sticks 
and  clay ;  and  not  a  window,  nor  an  opening  which  courtesy 
could  have  christened  a  windowT,  was  to  be  seen  in  the  entire 
collection.  And,  for  that  matter,  windows  were  useless,  for 
the  wide  crevices  in  the  logs,  which  let  in  the  air  and  rain,  at 
the  same  time  might  admit  the  light.  Two  or  three  low  beds 
at  one  end,  a  small  pine  bench,  which  held  half  a  dozen  wooden 
plates  and  spoons,  and  a  large  iron  pot,  resting  on  four  stones 
over  a  low  fire,  and  serving  for  both  wTashtub  and  cook-kettle, 
composed  the  furniture  of  each  interior. 


216  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

No  one  of  the  cabins  was  over  sixteen  feet  square,  but 
each  was  "  home "  and  "  shelter "  for  three  or  four  human 
beings.  Walking  on  a  short  distance,  we  came  to  a  larger  hovel, 
in  front  of  which  about  a  dozen  young  chattels  were  playing. 
Seven  or  eight  more,  too  young  to  walk,  were  crawling  about 
on  the  ground  inside.  They  had  only  one  garment  apiece — a 
long  shirt  of  coarse  linsey — and  their  heads  and  feet  were  bare. 
An  old  negress  was  seated  in  the  doorway,  knitting.  Ap- 
proaching her,  I  said : 

"  Aunty,  are  not  these  children  cold  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  no,  massa  ;  dey'm  use'  ter  de  wedder." 

"  Do  you  take  care  of  all  of  them  ?  " 

"In  de  daytime  I  does,  massa.  In  de  night  dar  mudders 
takes  de  small  'uns." 

"  But  some  of  them  are  white.  Those  two  are  as  white  as 
lam!" 

"  No,  massa ;  dey'm  brack.  Ef  you  looks  at  dar  eyes  an' 
dar  finger  nails,  you'll  see  dat." 

"  They're  black,  to  be  sure  they  are,"  said  young  Preston, 
laughing;  "but  they're  about  as  white  as  Dawsey,  and  look 
wonderfully  like  him — eh,  Aunty  Sue  ?  ;' 

"  I  reckons,  massa  Joe  ! "  replied  the  woman,  running  her 
hand  through  her  wool,  and  grinning  widely. 

"  What  does  he  ask  for  them,  aunty  ?  " 

"  Doan't  know,  massa,  but  'spect  dey'm  pooty  high.  Dem 
kine  am  hard  ter  raise." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joe  ;  "  white  blood — even  Dawsey's — don't 
take  naturally  to  mud." 

"  I  reckons  not,  massa  Joe  1 "  said  the  old  negress,  with 
another  grin. 


SOUTH  REN     CHIVALRY.  217 

Joe  gave  her  a  half-dollar  piece,  and,  amid  an  avalanche  of 
blessings,  we  passed  on  to  Dawsey's  "  mansion " — if  mansion 
it  could  be  called — a  story-and-a-half  shanty,  about  thirty  feet 
square,  covered  with  rough,  unpainted  boards,  and  lit  by  two 
small,  dingy  windows.  It  was  approached  by  a  sandy  walk, 
and  the  ground  around  its  front  entrance  was  littered  with 
apple  peelings,  potato  parings,  and  the  refuse  of  the  culinary 
department. 

Joe  rapped  at  the  door,  and,  in  a  moment,  it  opened,  and  a 
middle-aged  mulatto  woman  appeared.  As  soon  as  she  per- 
ceived Preston,  she  grasped  his  two  hands,  and  exclaimed  : 

"Oh!  massa  Robert,  do  buy  har !  Massa'll  kill  har,  ef 
you  doan't." 

11  But  I  can't,  Dinah.  Your  master  refuses  my  note,  and  I 
haven't  the  money  now." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  He'll  kill  har  ;  he  say  he  will.  She  woan't 
gib  in  ter  him,  an'  he'll  kill  har,  shore.  Oh !  oh  ! "  cried  the 
woman,  wringing  her  hands,  and  bursting  into  tears. 

"  Is  it  'Spasia  ?  "  asked  Joe. 

"  Yas,  massa  Joe  ;  "  it'm  'Spasia.  Massa  hab  sole  yaller 
Tom  'way  from  har,  an'  he  swar  he'll  kill  har  'case  she  woan't 
gib  in  ter  him  .     Oh  !  oh  !  " 

"  "Where  is  your  master  ?  " 

"He'm  'way  wid  har  an'  Black  Cale.  I  reckon  dey'm 
down  ter  de  branch.     I  reckon  dey'm  whippin'  on  har  now  !  " 

"  Come,  Frank,"  cried  Joe,  starting  off  at  a  rapid  pace ; 
"  let's  see  that  performance." 

"  Hold  on,  Joe ;   wait  for  us.     You'll  get  into  trouble  ! " 

shouted  his  father,  hurrying  after  him.     The  rest  of  us  caught 

up  with  them  in  a  few  moments,  and  then  all  walked  rapidly 
10 


218  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

on  in  the  direction  of  the  small  run  which  borders  the  two 
plantations. 

Before  we  had  gone  far,  we  heard  loud  screams,  mingled 
with  oaths  and  the  heavy  blows  of  a  whip.  Quickening  our 
pace,  we  soon  reached  the  bank  of  the  little  stream,  which 
there  was  lined  with  thick  underbrush.  We  could  see  no  one, 
and  the  sounds  had  subsided.  In  a  moment,  however,  a  rough 
voice  called  out  from  behind  the  bushes : 

"  Have  you  had  enough  ?     "Will  you  give  up  ?  " 

11  Oh  !  no,  good  massa ;  I  can't  do  dat ! "  was  the  half- 
sobbing,  half-moaning  reply. 

"  Give  it  to  her  again,  Cale  !  "  cried  the  first  voice ;  and 
again  the  whip  descended,  and  again  the  piercing  cries :  u  0 
Lord  !  "  "  Oh,  pray  doan't !  "  "O  Lord,  hab  mercy  !  "  "  Oh  ! 
good  massa,  hab  mercy  !  "  mingled  with  the  falling  blows. 

"  This  way  ! "  shouted  Joe,  pressing  through  the  bushes, 
and  bounding  down  the  bank  toward  the  actors  in  this  nine- 
teenth-century tournament,  wherein  an  armed  knight  and  a 
doughty  squire  were  set  against  a  weak,  defenceless  woman. 

Leaning  against  a  pine  at  a  few  feet  from  the  edge  of  the 
run,  was  a  tall,  bony  man  of  about  fifty.  His  hair  was  coarse 
and  black,  and  his  skin  the  color  of  tobacco  juice.  He  wore 
the  ordinary  homespun  of  the  district ;  and  long,  deep  lines 
about  his  mouth  and  under  his  eyes  told  the  story  of  a  dissi- 
pated life.  His  entire  appearance  was  anything  but  prepos- 
sessing. 

At  the  distance  of  three  or  four  rods,  and  bound  4o  the 
chnrred  trunk  of  an  old  tree,  was  a  womnn,  several  shades 
lighter  than  the  man.  Her  feet  were  secured  by  stout  cords, 
and  her  arms  were  clasped  around  the  blackened  stump,  and 


SOUTHERN     C  II  I  V  A  L  Ii  Y  .  219 

tied  in  that  position.  Her  back  was  bare  to  the  loin?,  and,  as 
■he  hung  there,  moaning  with  agony,  and  shivering  with  cold, 
it  seemed  one  mass  of  streaming  gore. 

The  brawny  black,  whom  Boss  Joe  had  so  eccentrically 
addressed  at  the  negro  meeting,  years  before,  was  in  the  act  of 
whipping  the  woman ;  but,  with  one  bound,  young  Preston 
was  on  him.  "W"renching  the  whip  from  his  hand,  he  turned 
on  his  master,  crying  out : 

"  Untie  her,  you  white-livered  devil,  or  I'll  plough  your 
back  as  you've  ploughed  hers  !  " 

u  Don't  interfere  here,  you  d — d  whelp  !  "  shouted  Dawsey, 
livid  with  rage,  and  drawing  his  revolver. 

"  I'll  give  you  enough  of  that,  you  cowardly  hound  !  " 
cried  Joe,  taking  a  small  Derringer  from  his  pocket,  and  coolly 
advancing  upon  Dawsey. 

The  latter  levelled  his  pistol,  but,  before  he  could  fire,  by  a 
dexterous  movement  of  my  cane,  I  struck  it  from  his  hnnd. 
Drawing  instantly  a  large  knife,  he  rushed  upon  me.  The 
knife  was  descending — in  another  instant  I  should  have  "tasted 
Southern  steel,"  had  not  Frank  caught  his  arm,  wrenched  the 
weapon  from  his  grasp,  and,  with  the  fury  of  an  aroused  tiger, 
sprung  on  him  and  borne  him  to  the  ground.  Planting  his 
knee  firmly  on  Dawsey's  breast,  and  twisting  his  neckcloth 
tightly  about  his  throat,  Frank  yelled  out : 

"  Stand  back.     Let  me  deal  with  him  !  " 

"  But  you  will  kill  him." 

"  Well,  he  would  have  killed  you  ! "  he  cried,  tightening 
his  hold  on  Dawsey's  throat. 

"  Let  him  up,  Frank.  Let  the  devil  have  fair  play,"  said 
Joe  ;   "  I'll  give  him  a  chance  at  ten  paces." 


220  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  Yes,  let  him  up,  my  son  ;  he  is  unarmed." 

Frank  slowly  and  reluctantly  released  his  hold,  and  the 
woman-whipper  rose.  Looking  at  us  for  a  moment — a  min- 
gled look  of  rage  and  defiance — he  turned,  without  speaking, 
and  took  some  rapid  strides  up  the  bank. 

"  Hold  on,  Colonel  Dawsey  ! "  cried  Joe,  elevating  his  Der- 
ringer ;  "  take  another  step,  and  I'll  let  daylight  through  you. 
You've  just  got  to  promise  you  won't  whip  this  woman,  or 
take  your  chance  at  ten  paces." 

[I  afterward  learned  that  Joe  was  deadly  sure  with  the 
pistol.] 

Dawsey  turned  slowly  round,  and,  in  a  sullen  tone,  asked : 

"  Who  are  you,  gentlemen,  that  interfere  with  my  private 
affairs  ?  " 

"  My  name,  sir,  is  Kirke,  of  New  York ;  and  this  young 
man  is  my  son." 

"  Not  Mr.  Kirke,  my  factor  ?  "   ; 

"  The  same,  sir." 

"Well,  Mr.  Kirke,  I'm  sorry  to  say  you're  just  now  in 
d — d  pore  business." 

11 1  have  been,  sir.  I've  done  yours  for  some  years,  and 
I'm  heartily  ashamed  of  it.  I'll  try  to  mend  in  that  particular, 
however." 

"Well,  no  more  words,  Colonel  Dawsey,"  said  Joe. 
"  Here's  a  Derringer,  if  you'd  like  a  pop  at  me." 

"  'Tain't  an  even  chance,"  replied  Dawsey ;   "  you  know  it." 

11  Take  it,  or  promise  not  to  whip  the  woman.  I  won't 
waste  more  time  on  such  a  sneaking  coward  as  you  are." 

Dawsey  hesitated,  but  finally,  in  a  dogged  way,  made  the 
required  promise,  and  took  himself  off. 


SOUTHERN     CHIVALRY.  221 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  Preston  and  the 
negro  man  had  untied  the  woman.  Her  back  was  bleeding 
profusely,  and  she  was  unable  to  stand.  Lifting  her  in  their 
arms,  the  two  conveyed  her  to  the  top  of  the  bank,  and  thou, 
making  a  bed  of  their  coats,  laid  her  on  the  ground.  We 
remained  there  until  the  negro  returned  from  the  house  with 
a  turpentine  wagon,  and  conveyed  the  woman  rt  home."  "We 
then  returned  to  the  plantation,  and  that  afternoon,  accom- 
panied by  Frank  and  Joe,  I  resumed  my  journey. 

By  way  of  episode,  I  will  mention  that  the  slave  woman, 
after  being  confined  to  her  bed  several  weeks,  recovered. 
Then  Dawsey  renewed  his  attack  upon  her,  and,  from  the 
effects  of  a  second  whipping,  she  died. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 


DIFFICULTIES. 


Returning  from  the  South  a  few  weeks  after  the  events 
narrated  in  the  previous  chapter,  Frank  and  I  were  ^met  at 
Goldsboro  by  Preston  and  Selma,  when  the  latter  accompanied 
us  to  the  North,  and  once  more  resumed  her  place  in  David's 
family. 

On  the  first  of  February  following,  Frank,  then  not  quite 
twenty-one,  was  admitted  a  partner  in  the  house  of  Russell, 
Rollins  &  Co.,  and,  in  the  succeeding  summer,  was  sent  to 
Europe  on  business  of  the  firm.  Shortly  after  his  return,  in 
the  following  spring,  he  came  on  from  Boston  with  a  proposal 
from  Cragin  that  I  should  embark  with  them  and  young  Pres- 
ton in  an  extensive  speculation.  Deeming  any  business  in 
which  Cragin  was  willing  to  engage  worthy  of  careful  consid- 
eration, I  listened  to  Frank's  exposition  of  the  plan  of  opera- 
tions. He  had  originated  the  project,  and  in  it  he  displayed 
the  comprehensive  business  mind  and  rare  blending  of  caution 
and  boldness  which  characterized  his  father.  As  the  result  of 
this  transaction  had  an  important  influence  on  the  future  of 
some  of  the  actors  in  my  story,  I  will  detail  its  programme. 

It  was  during  the  Crimean  war.  The  Russian  ports  were 
closed,  and  Great  Britain  and  the  Continent  of  Europe  were 


DIFFICULTIES.  223 

dependent  entirely  on  the  Southern  States  for  their  supply  of 
resinous  articles.  The  rivers  at  the  South  were  low,  and  it 
was  not  supposed  they  would  rise  sufficiently  to  float  produce 
to  market  before  the  occurrence  of  the  spring  freshets,  in  the 
following  April  or  May.  Only  forty  thousand  barrels  of  com- 
mon rosin  were  held  in  "Wilmington— the  largest  naval  store 
port  in  the  world  ;  and  it  was  estimated  that  not  more  than 
two  hundred  thousand  were  on  hand  in  the  other  ports  of  Sa- 
vannah, Ga.,  Georgetown,  S.  C,  Newbern  and  Washington, 
X.  C,  and  in  New  York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia.  Very 
little  was  for  sale  in  London,  Liverpool,  or  Glasgow,  the 
largest  foreign  markets  for  the  article;  and  Frank  thought 
that  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  barrels  could  be  purchased. 
That  quantity,  taken  at  once  out  of  market,  would  probably  so 
much  enhance  the  value  of  the  article,  that  the  operation 
would  realize  a  large  profit  before  the  new  crop  came  forward. 
The  purchases  were  to  be  made  simultaneously  in  the  various 
markets,  and  about  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  were  re- 
quired to  carry  through  the  transaction.  One  hundred  thou- 
sand of  this  was  to  be  furnished  in  equal  proportions  by  the 
parties  interested ;  the  other  hundred  thousand  would  be  real- 
ized by  Joseph  Preston's  negotiating  "long  exchange"  on 
Russell,  Rollins  &  Co. 

I  declined  to  embark  in  the  speculation,  but  the  others  car- 
ried it  out  as  laid  down  in  the  programme  ;  the  only  deviation 
being  that,  at  Frank's  suggestion,  Mr.  Robert  Preston  was 
apprised  of  the  intended  movement,  and  allowed  to  purchase, 
on  his  own  account,  as  much  produce  as  could  be  secured  in 
Newbern.  He  bought  about  seven  thousand  barrels,  paid  for 
them  by  drawing  at  ninety  days  on  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.,  and 


224  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

held  them  for  sale  at  Newborn,  agreeing  to  satisfy  his  drafts 
with  the  proceeds.  These  drafts  amounted  to  a  trifle  over 
eighty-two  hundred  dollars.  . 

About  a  month  after  this  transaction  was  entered  into,  our 
firm  received  the  following  letter  from  Preston  : 

"  Gentlemen  :  An  unfortunate  difference  with  my  son 
prevents  my  longer  using  him  as  my  indorser.  I  have  not,  as 
yet,  been  able  to  secure  another  ;  and,  our  banks  requiring 
two  home  names  on  time  drafts,  I  have  to  beg  you  to  honor  a 
small  bill  at  one  day's  sight.  I  have  drawn  for  one  thousand 
dollars.     Please  honor." 

To  this  I  at  once  replied  : 

"  Dear  Sir  :  We  have  advice  of  your  draft  for  one  thou- 
sand dollars.  To  protect  your  credit,  we  shall  pay  it ;  but  we 
beg  you  will  draw  no  more,  till  you  forward  bills  of  lading. 

"You  are  now  overdrawn  some  five  thousand  dollars, 
which,  by  the  maturing  of  your  drafts,  has  become  a  cash  ad- 
vance. The  death  of  our  senior,  Mr.  Randall,  and  the  conse- 
quent withdrawal  of  his  capital,  has  left  us  with  an  extended 
business  and  limited  means.  Money,  also,  is  very  tight,  and 
we  therefore  earnestly  beg  you  to  put  us  in  funds  at  the  earli- 
est possible  moment." 

No  reply  was  received  to  this  letter ;  but,  about  ten  days 
after  its  transmission,  Preston  himself  walked  into  my  private 
office.  His  clothes  were  travel  stained,  and  he  appeared  hag- 
gard and  careworn.  I  had  never  seen  him  look  so  miser- 
ably. 


DIFFICULTIES.  225 

He  met  me  cordially,  and  soon  referred  to  the  state  of  his 
affairs.  His  wife,  the  winter  before,  had  agreed  to  reside  per- 
manently at  Newbern,  and  content  herself  with  an  allowance 
of  three  thousand  dollars  annually  ;  but  at  the  close  of  the 
year  he  found  that  she  had  contracted  debts  to  the  extent  of 
several  thousand  more.  He  was  pressed  for  these  debts ;  his 
interest  was  in  arrears,  and  he  Could  raise  no  money  for  lack 
of  another  indorser.  Ruin  stared  him  in  the  face,  unless  I 
again  put  my  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  and  pried  him  out  of 
the  mire.  The  turpentine  business  was  not  paying  as  well 
as  formerly,  but  the  new  plantation  was  encumbered  with  only 
the  original  mortgage — less  than  six  thousand  dollars — and 
was  then  worth,  owing  to  an  advance  in  the  value  of  land, 
fully  twenty  thousand.  He  would  secure  me  by  a  mortgage 
on  that  property,  but  I  must  allow  the  present  indebtedness  to 
stand,  and  let  him  increase  it  four  or  rive  thousand  dollars. 
That  amount  would  extricate  him  from  present  difficulties ; 
and,  to  avoid  future  embarrassments,  he  would  take  measures 
for  a  legal  separation  from  his  wife. 

I  heard  him  through,  and  then  said  : 

u  I  cannot  help  you,  my  friend.  I  am  very  sorry  ;  but  my 
own  affairs  are  in  a  most  critical  state.  I  owe  over  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  maturing  within  twenty  days,,  and  my  pres- 
ent available  resources  are  not  more  than  fifty  thousand.  I 
have  three  hundred  thousand  worth  of  produce  on  hand,  but 
the  market  is  so  depressed  that  I  cannot  realize  a  dollar 
upon  it.  The  banks  have  shut  down,  and  money  is  two  per 
cent,  a  month  in  the  street.  What  you  owe  us  would  aid  me 
wonderfully  ;  but  I  can  rub  through  without  it.  That  much  I 
can  bear,  but  not  a  dollar  more." 
10* 


220  1TY     SOUTHERN     F  EI  ENDS. 

He  walked  the  room  for  a  time,  and  was  silent ;  then, 
turning  to  me,  he  said — each  separate  word  seeming  a  groan  : 

"  I  have  cursed  every  one  I  ever  loved,  and  now  I  am 
bringing  trouble — perhaps  disaster — upon  you,  the  only  real 
friend  I  have  left." 

"  Pshaw !  my  good  fellow,  don't  talk  in  that  way.  "What 
you  owe  us  is  only  a  drop  in  the  bucket.  "We  have  made 
twice  that  amount  out  of  you ;  so  give  yourself  no  uneasiness, 
if  you  never  pay  it." 

"  But  T  must  pay  it — I  shall  pay  it ; "  and,  continuing  to 
pace  the  room  silently  for  a  few  moments,  he  added,  giving  me 
his  hand  :   "  Good-by  ;  I'm  going  back  to-night." 

"Back  to-mght !  —  without  seeing  Solly,  or  my  wife? 
You  are  mad  !  " 

"  I  must  go." 

"  You  must  not  go.  You  are  letting  affairs  trouble  you 
too  much.  Come,  go  home  with  me,  and  see  Kate.  A  few 
words  from  her  will  make  a  new  man  of  you." 

"  No,  no  ;  I  must  go  back  at  once.  I  must  raise  this 
money  somehow." 

"  Send  money  to  the  dogs !  Come  with  me,  and  have  a 
good  night's  rest.  You'll  think  better  of  this  in  the  morning. 
And  now  it  occurs  to  me  that  Kate  has  about  seven  thousand 
belonging  to  Frank.  He  means  to  settle  it  on  Selly  when 
they  are  married,  and  she  might  as  well  have  it  first  as  last. 
Perhaps  you  can  get  it  now." 

"  But  I  might  be  robbing  my  own  child." 

11  You  can  give  the  farm  jfs  security ;  it's  worth  twice  the 
amount." 

"  Well,  I'll  stay.     Let  us  see  your  wife  at  once." 


DIFFICULTIES.  007 

While  we  were  seated  in  tiie  parlor,  after  supper,  I 
broached  the  subject  of  Preston's  wants  to  Kate.  She  heard 
me  through  attentively,  and  then  quietly  said  : 

"  Frank  is  of  age— he  can  do  as  he  pleases  ;  but  /  would 
not  advise  him  to  make  the  loan.  I  once  heard  my  father 
scout  at  the  idea  of  taking  security  on  property  a  thousand 
miles  away.  I  would  not  wound  Mr.  Preston's  feelings,  but— 
his  wife's  extravagance  has  led  him  into  this  difficulty,  and  her 
property  should  extricate  him  from  it.  Her  town  hou.se, 
horses,  and  carriages  should  be  sold.  She  ought  to  be  made 
to  feel  some  of  the  mortification  she  has  brought  upon  him." 

Preston's  nice  brightened;  a  new  idea  seemed  to  strike 
him.  "  You  are  right.  I  will  sell  everything."  His  face 
clouded  again,  as  he  continued:  "But  I  cannot  realize  soon 
enough.     Your  husband  needs  money  at  once." 

"  Never  mind  me ;  I  can  take  care  of  myself.  But  what 
is  this  trouble  with  Joe  ?  Tell  me  ,  I  will  arrange  it.  Every- 
thing  can  go  on  smoothly  again." 

"It  cannot  be  arranged.  There  can  be  no  reconciliation 
between  us." 

"  What  prevents  ?     Who  is  at  fault — you,  or  he  ?  " 
"  I  am.     He  will  never  forgive  me  !  " 

"  Forgive  you  !  I  can't  imagine  what  you  have  done,  that 
admits  of  no  forgiveness." 

He  rose,  and  walked  the  room  for  a  while  in  gloomy 
silence,  then  said  : 

"  I  will  tell  you.  It  is  right  you  should  know.  You  both 
should  know  the  sort  of  man  you  have  esteemed  and  be- 
friended for  so  many  years;"  and,  resuming  his  seat,  he 
related  the  following  occurrences  : 


2  2  S  MY      SOUTHERN      FRIENDS. 

"  Everything  went  on  as  usual  at  the  plantation,  till  some 
months  after  Rosey's  marriage  to  Ally.  Then  a  child  was 
born  to  them.  It  was  white.  Rosey  refused  to  reveal  its 
father,  but  it  was  evidently  not  her  husband.  Ally,  being  a 
proud,  high-spirited  fellow,  took  the  thing  terribly  to  heart. 
He  refused  to  live  with  his  wife,  or  even  to  see  her.  I  tried 
to  reconcile  them,  but  without  success.  Old  Dinah,  who  had 
previously  doted  on  Rosey,  turned  about,  and  began  to  beat 
and  abuse  her  cruelly.  To  keep  the  child  out  of  the  old 
woman's  way,  I  took  her  into  the  house,  and  she  remained 
there  till  about  two  months  ago.  Then,  one  day,  Larkin,  the 
trader,  of  whom  you  bought  Phylly  and  the  children,  came 
to  me,  wanting  a  woman  house-servant.  I  was  pressed  for 
money,  and  I  offered  him — a  thing  I  never  did  before — two  or 
three  of  my  family  slaves.  They  did  not  suit,  but  he  said 
Rosey  would,  and  proposed  to  buy  her  and  the  child.  I  re- 
fused. He  offered  me  fifteen  hundred  dollars  for  them,  but  I 
still  refused.  Then  he  told  me  that  he  had  spoken  to  the  girl, 
and  she  wished  him  to  buy  her.  I  doubted  it,  and  said  so ; 
but  he  called  Rosey  to  us,  and  she  confirmed  it,  and,  in  an 
excited  way,  told  me  she  would  run  away,  or  drown  herself, 
if  I  did  not  sell  her.  She  said  she  could  live  no  longer  on  the 
same  plantation  with  Ally.  I  told  her  I  would  send  Ally 
away  ;  but  she  replied :  '  No ;  I  am  tired  of  this  place.  I 
have  suffered  so  much  here,  I  want  to  get  away.  I  shall  go  ; 
whether  alive  or  dead,  is  for  you  to  say.'  I  saw  she  was  in 
earnest ;  I  was  hard  pressed  for  money ;  Larkin  promised  to 
get  her  a  kind  master,  and — I  sold  her." 

"  Sold    her !      My   God !    Preston,    she   was    your    own 
child  ! " 


DIFFICULTIES.  229 

"  I  know  it,"  he  replied,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands. 
"  The  curse  of  God  was  on  it ;  it  has  been  on  me  for  years." 
After  a  few  moments,  he  added  :  "  But  hear  the  rest,  and  you 
will  curse  me  too." 

Overcome  with  emotion,  he  groaned  audibly.  I  said  noth- 
ing, and  a  pause  of  some  minutes  ensued.  Then,  in  a  choked, 
broken  voice,  he  continued  : 

11  The  rosin  transaction  had  been  gone  into.  I  had  used  up 
what  blank  indorsements  I  had.  Needing  more,  and  wanting 
to  consult  with  Joe  about  selling  the  rosin,  I  went  to  Mobile. 
It  was  five  weeks  ago.  I  arrived  there  about  dark,  and  put  up 
at  the  Battle  House.  Joe  had  boarded  there.  I  was  told  he 
had  left,  and  gone  to  housekeeping.  A  negro  conducted  me  to 
a  small  house  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  He  said  Joe  lived 
there.  Wishing  to  surprise  him,  I  went  in  without  knocking. 
The  house  had  two  parlors,  separated  by  folding  doors.  In  the 
back  one  a  young  woman  was  clearing  away  the  tea  things  • 
in  the  front  one,  Joe  was  seated  by  the  fire,  with  a  young  child 
on  his  knee.  I  put  my  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  said  :  '  Joe. 
whose  child  have  you  here  ? '  He  looked  up,  and  laughingly 
said :  '  "Why,  father,  you  ought  to  know ;  you've  seen  it  be- 
fore ! '  I  looked  closely  at  it — it  was  Rosey's  !  I  said  so. 
1  Yes,  father,'  he  replied  ;  '  and  there's  Rosey  herself.  Larkin 
promised  she  should  have  a  kind  master,  and — he  kept  his 
word.'  The  truth  flashed  upon  me — the  child  was  his !  My 
only  son  had  seduced  his  own  sister  !  I  staggered  back  in 
horror.  I  told  him  who  Rosey  was,  and  then " — no  words 
can  express  the  intense  agony  depicted  on  his  face  as  he  said 
this — "  then  he  cursed  me  !     0  my  God  !   iik  cursed  me  !  " 

I  pitied  him.     I  could  but  pity  him  ;  and  I  said  : 


230  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  Do  not  be  so  ca.-t  down,  my  friend.  I  once  heard  you 
say  :   '  The  Lord  is  good.     His  mercy  is  everlasting  ! '  " 

"  But  He  cannot  have  mercy  on  some  !  "  he  cried.  "  My 
sins  have  been  too  great ;  they  cannot  be  blotted  out.  I 
embittered  the  life  of  my  wife ;  I  have  driven  my  daughter 
from  her  home ;  sold  my  own  child ;  made  my  generous, 
noble-hearted  boy  do  a  horrible  crime — a  crime  that  will  haunt 
him  forever.  Oil !  the  curse  of  God  is  on  me.  My  misery  is 
greater  than  I  can  bear." 

"  No,  my  friend  ;  God  curses  none  of  his  creatures.  You 
have  reaped  what  you  have  sown,  that  is  all ;  but  you  have 
suffered  enough.  Better  things,  believe  me,  are  in  store  for 
you." 

u  No,  no  ;  everything  is  gone — wife,  children,  all !  I  am 
alone — the  past,  nothing  but  remorse  ;  the  future,  ruin  and  dis- 
honor ! " 

u  But  Selly  is  left  you.     She  will  always  love  you." 

"  No,  no  !     Even  Selly  would  curse  me,  if  she  knew  all !  " 

No  one  spoke  for  a  full  half  hour,  and  he  continued  pacing 
up  and  down  the  room.  "When,  at  last,  he  seated  himself, 
more  composed,  I  asked  : 

"  What  became  of  Rosey  and  the  child  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know.  I  was  shut  in  my  room  for  several 
days.  "When  I  got  out,  I  was  told  Joe  had  freed  her,  and  she 
had  disappeared,  no  one  knew  whither.  I  tried  every  means 
to  trace  her,  but  could  not.  At  the  end  of  a  week,  I  went 
home,  what  you  see  me — a  broken-hearted  man." 

The  next  morning,  despite  our  urgent  entreaties,  he  re- 
turned to  the  South. 

****** 


DIFFICULTIES.  231 

The  twenty  days  were  expiring.  By  hard  struggling  I 
had  diet  my  liabilities,  but  the  hist  day— the  crisis— was  ap- 
proaching. Thirty  thousand  dollars  of  our  acceptances  had 
accumulated  together,  and  were  maturing  on  that  day.  When 
I  went  home,  on  the  preceding  night,  we  had  only  nineteen 
thousand  in  bank.  I  had  exhausted  all  our  receivables. 
Where  the  eleven  thousand  was  to  come  from,  I  did  not  know. 
Only  one  resource  seemed  left  me — the  hypothecation  of  prod- 
uce ;  and  a  resort  to  that,  at  that  time,  before  warehouse 
receipts  became  legitimate  securities,  would  be  ruinous  to  our 
credit.  My  position  was  a  terrible  one.  No  one  not  a  mer- 
chant can  appreciate  or  realize  it.  With  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands of  assets,  the  accumulations  of  years,  my  standing 
amono-  merchants,  and,  what  I  valued  more  than  all,  my  un- 
tarnished  credit,  were  in  jeopardy  for  the  want  of  a  paltry 
sum. 

I  went  home  that  night  with  a  heavy  heart ;.  ■  but  Kate's 
hopeful  words  encouraged  me.  With  her  and  the  children  left 
to  me,  I  need  not  care  for  the  rest ;  all  might  go,  and  I  could 
commence  again  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  The  next  morn- 
ing I  walked  down  town  with  a  firm  spirit,  ready  to  meet  dis- 
aster like  a  man.  The  letters  by  the  early  mail  were  on  my 
desk.  I  opened  them  one  after  another,  hurriedly,  eagerly. 
There  were  no  remittances  !  I  had  expected  at  least  five  thou- 
sand dollars.  For  a  moment  my  courage  failed  me.  I  rose, 
and  paced  the  room,  and  thoughts  like  these  passed  through 
my  mind  :  "  The  last  alternative  has  come.  Pride  must  give 
way  to  dutv.  I  must  hypothecate  produce,  and  protect  my 
correspondents.  I  must  sacrifice  myself,  to  save  my  friends  !. 
"  But  here  are   two  letters  I  have  thrown  aside.     They 


232  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

are  addressed  to  me  personally.  Mere  letters  of  friendship  ! 
What  is  friendship,  at  a  time  like  this  ? — friendship  without 
money  !  Pshaw  !  1  wouldn't  give  a  fig  for  all  the  friends  in 
the  world  !  " 

Mechanically  I  opened  one  of  them.  An  enclosure 
dropped  from  it  to  the  floor.  Without  pausing  to  pick  it  up, 
I  read : 

u  Dear  Father  :  Mother  writes  me  you  are  hard  pressed. 
Sell  my  U.  S.  stock — it  will  realize  over  seven  thousand.  It 
is  yours.  Enclosed  is  Cragin's  certified  check  for  ten  thou- 
sand. If  you  need  more,  draw  on  him,  at  sight,  for  any 
amount.     He  says  he  will  stand  by  you  to  the  death. 

"  Love  to  mother.  Frank.'' 

"P.  S.— Fire  away,  old  fellow!  Hallet  is  ugly,  but  I'll 
go  my  pile  on  you,  spite  of  the  devil.  Cragin." 

"  Saved  !  saved  by  my  wife  and  child  !  "  I  leaned  my 
head  on  my  desk.     "When  I  rose,  there  were  tears  upon  it. 

It  wanted  some  minutes  of  ten,  but  I  was  nervously  im- 
patient to  blot  out  those  terrible  acceptances.  I  should  then 
be  safe  ;  I  should  then  breathe  freely.  As  I  passed  out  of  my 
private  office,  I  opened  the  other  letter.  It  was  from  Preston. 
Pausing  a  moment,  I  read  it : 

"  My  very  dear  Friend  :  I  enclose  you  sight  check  of 
Branch  Bank  of  Cape  Fear  on  Bank  of  Republic,  for  $10,820. 
Apply  what  is  needed  to  pay  my  account ;  the  rest  hold  sub- 
ject to  my  drafts. 

"I  have  sold  my  town  house,  furniture,  horses,   &c,  and 


DIFFICULTIES.  203 

the  proceeds  will  pay  my  home  debts.  I  shall  therefore  not 
need  to  draw  the  balance  for,  say,  sixty  days.  God  bless 
you ! " 

"  Well,  the  age  of  miracles  is  not  passed  !  How  did  he 
raise  the  money  ?  " 

Stepping  back  into  the  private  office,  I  called  my  partner : 
"  Draw  checks  for  all  the  acceptances  due  to-day  ;  get  them 
certified,  and  take  up  the  bills  at  once.     Don't  let  the  grass 
grow  under  your  feet.     I  shall  be  away  the  rest  of  the  day, 
and  I  want  to  see  them  before  I  go.     Here  is  a  draft  from 
Preston  ;  it  will  make  our  account  good." 
He  looked  at  it,  and,  laughing,  said : 
"Yes,  and  leave  about  fifty  dollars  in  bank." 
"  Well,  never  mind  ;  we  are  out  of  the  woods." 
When  he  had  gone,  I  sat  down,  and  wrote  the  following 
letter : 

u  My  dear  Frank  :  I  return  Cragin's  check,  with  many 
thanks.  I  have  not  sold  your  stock.  My  legitimate  resources 
have  carried  me  through. 

11 1  need  not  say,  my  boy,  that  I  feel  what  you  would  have 
done  for  me.     Words  are  not  needed  between  us. 

"  Tell  Cragin  that  I  consider  him  a  trump — the  very  ace 
of  hearts. 

"  Your  mother  and  I  will  see  you  in  a  few  days." 

In  half  an  hour,  with  the  two  letters  in  my  pocket,  I  was 
on  my  way  home.  Handing  them  to  Kate,  I  took  her  in  my 
arms ;  and,  as  I  brushed  the  still  bright,  golden  hair  from  her 
broad  forehead,  I  felt  I  was  the  richest  man  living. 


CHAPTEK    XXIII. 

A     SUDDEN     DISSOLUTION. 

Within  the  same  week  I  went  to  Boston.  I  arrived  just 
after  dark ;  but,  as  it  was  again  "  steamer  night,"  I  drove 
directly  to  the  office  of  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co. 

David  occupied  his  accustomed  stand  at  the  old  desk,  and 
Frank  was  seated  near  him.  After  the  usual  greetings  were 
over,  I  said  to  Frank : 

"  Come !  your  mother  is  in  the  carriage  at  the  door,  and 
wants  you  to  spend  the  evening  with  her." 

"I  can't.  I'm  very  sorry;"  and  he  added,  in  a  lower 
tone  :  "  Selly  has  just  heard  of  her  father's  death,  and  goes 
home  to-morrow.     I  must  spend  the  evening  with  her." 

11  Preston  dead  !     How  was  it  ?  " 

"  He  was  thrown  from  a  horse,  and  died  the  same  day. 
She  got  the  telegram  yesterday.  I'll  go  down  and  see  mother 
for  a  moment." 

11  Well,  do ;  and  we'll  go  out  to  Cambridge  with  you. 
The  poor  girl  must  feel  badly." 

"  Yes  ;   she  takes  it  very  hard." 

As  he-  went  out,  I  rapped  at  the  door  of  the  inner  office. 
Hallet  and  Cragin  were  both  there,  and  the  latter  greeted  me 
cordially.     The  other  was  very  polite  and  very  sth%  as  usual. 


A     SUDDEN      DISSOLUTION.  235 

After  a  few  general  remarks  were  exchanged,  I  said  . 

*  Well,  Mr.  Hallet,  how  does  Frank  get  on?" 

u  Oh  !  very  well.  Knows  a  little  too  much,  like  most 
young  men  of  his  age ;  but  he  does  very  well." 

"  '  Very  well ! '  Mr.  HaUet,  d— d  if  he  don't ;  he's  the 
smartest  boy  living.  Made  a  clean  forty  thousand  on  the  rosin 
speculation.  Forced  it  on  Hallet  against  his  better  judgment 
— ha !  ha  !  "  and  Cragin  laughed  till  he  showed  all  that  were 
left  of  his  tobacco-stained  teeth. 

11  Not  exactly  clear,  Mr.  Cragin,"  said  Hallet,  a  little  sar- 
castically. 

11  I'm  sure  of  it,  Mr.  Hallet,"  replied  Cragin,  in  his  quick, 
impulsive  way  ;  "  but  we  might  as  well  understand  each  other 
about  this  first  as  last.  If  we  lose  by  Preston,  the  loss  is  not 
charged  to  Frank;  it  must  go  to  the  rosin  operation.  You 
took  your  part  of  the  profits,  you  must  bear  your  share  of  the 
losses." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Hallet,  impatiently;  "we'll  discuss 
that  some  other  time." 

A  short  rap  came  at  the  office  door,  and  Frank  entered,  hat 
in  hand. 

"  Mother  insists  on  going  now.  Are  you  ready,  sir?"  he 
said,  addressing  me. 

Before  I  could  reply,  Hallet  sharply  asked : 

"  Have  you  written  your  letters  for  the  steamer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What  have  you  said  to  Maclean,  Maris  &  Co.  about  the 
gum  copal  ?  " 

"  I  will  show  you,  sir ;  "  and,  going  into  the  other  room,  he 
soon  returned  with  an  open  letter,  still  wet  from  the  copying 


236  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

press.  Hallet  took  it,  read  it  over  slowly  and  carefully,  and, 
handing  it  back,  said,  in  the  slightly  pompous  tone  nafural  to 
him  : 

"  That  will  do  ;  you  can  go." 

I  was' rising  to  bid  them  "  good  evening,"  when  Hallet  said 
to  me  : 

II  Mr.  Kirke,  I  dislike  to  trespass  on  your  time ;  but 
I  wish  to  confer  with  you  a  few  moments  on  a  private 
matter." 

"  Certainly,  sir  ;  "  and  I  added,  turning  to  Cragin :  "  Kate 
is.  going  out  with  Frank.  You  can  take  a  seat  with  her,  if  you 
like." 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  think  I  will — and  there'll  be  room  enough 
for  David,  I  guess." 

II I  want  David  here,"  said  Hallet,  -curtly. 

"  Oh  !  very  well.     You'll  come  soon,  Ned  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  before  the  tea  cakes  are  cold." 

"When  Cragin  had  gone,  Hallet,  opening  the  door,  called : 

"  David  !  " 

The  bookkeeper  entered,  and  took  a  seat  beside  me. 

"  Mr.  Kirke,"  said  Hallet,  when  the  other  was  seated,  "  I 
want  to  talk  with  you  and  David  about  Frank.  He  has  en- 
tangled himself  with  that  Southern  girl,  and,  I  hear,  means  to 
marry  her.  I  strongly  object  to  it.  I've  not  a  particle  of 
influence  with  him,  and  you  must  prevent  it." 

"  Why  should  I  prevent  it  ? "  I  asked,  rather  sharply. 
"  "What  is  there  against  the  young  woman  ?  " 

"  Nothing  against  her  character,  but  she'd  not  be  a  fit  wife 
for  Frank.  These  Southern  women  are  educated  with  wrong 
ideas  ;  they  make  poor  wives  for  poor  men.     He  must  marry  a 


A     SUDDEN     DISSOLUTION.  237 

rich  girl,  or  one  brought  up  with  New  England  habits.     This 
one  would  bring  him  nothing,  and  spend  all  he  made." 

"  But  she  is  an  only  daughter,  and  her.  father  is  said  to  be 
rich." 

"  Pshaw  !  that  is  bosh  !  Preston  always  lived  high,  and  I'll 
guarantee  his  estate  is  bankrupt.    I'm  sorry  for  it,  for  he  owes  us." 

"  Is  that  so  !     Largely  ?  " 

"  No,  not  largely.     How  much  is  he  overdrawn,  David  ?  " 

11  Eighty-two  hundred  and  odd." 

"  I'm  surprised  at  that,"  I  said.  "  The  old  house  did  not 
allow  such  things." 

M  Neither  do  we ;  'twas  Cragin's  work.  He  thought 
'twould  annoy  Frank  if  the  drafts  went  back,  and  " — he  hesi- 
tated a  moment — "  he  insisted  upon  it.  'Twill  be  a  total  loss. 
Preston  acted  very  dishonorably  about  it." 

"  Dishonorably  !  How  so,  Mr.  Hallet  ?  "  I  asked,  in  a 
tone  of  decided  displeasure. 

"  Well,  he  drew  on  us  to  pay  for  some  rosin  bought  on 
speculation.  He  agreed  to  ship  it  to  us,  or,  if  he  sold  it  there, 
to  remit  enough  to  cover  the  drafts.  He  sold  it  some  weeks 
ago,  and  diverted  the  proceeds." 

"  Is  it  possible  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

It  was  true.  To  relieve  me,  Preston — an  honest  man,  if 
one  ever  existed — had  ruined  his  good  name  ;  done  an  act 
wliich,  had  he  lived,  would  have  branded  him  to  his  latest  day. 

I  said  no  more,  and  Hallet  remarked  : 

"  I  would  be  glad  to  have  you  break  up  that  connection, 
Mr.  Kirke." 

"I  cannot,  Mr.  Hallet.  I  am  opposed  to  interfering  in 
such  matters.     I  taught  Frank  to  think  for  himself." 


238  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  You  taught  hiui  to  think  too  much  for  himself.  He  is 
self-willed  and  headstrong  to  a  fault." 

"  Perhaps  you  might  have  trained  him  better,  if  you  had 
tried,"  I  replied,  with  a  slight  sneer. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  I  mean  no  reflection  on  your 
management  of  him.  I  only  feel  that  this  is  a  most  important 
step,  and  he  ought  to  be  advised.  He  should  marry  rich,  for 
he  has  nothing,  and  cannot  rely  upon  me." 

"  He  does  not  rely  upon  you ;  but  he  is  a  partner  now,  and 
his  income  ought  to  support  a  wife." 

"  His  income  is  uncertain  ;  he  may  not  remain  long  in  the 
concern,"  replied  Hallet,  coolly. 

David  started.  His  face  reddened  to  the  roots  of  his  hair, 
and  he  asked,  in  a  sententious  way : 

11  Who  told  thee  that,  John  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  replied  that  gentleman,  seemingly  surprised  at 
the  abrupt  question  ;  "lam  deliberating  on  k  myself.  He  is 
sowing  dissension  between  Cragin  and  me.  The  lowest  boy  in 
the  office — even  you,  David,  pay  more  heed  to  him  than  to 
me." 

"  That  may  be  your  own  fault,"  I  said,  a  little  sarcastically. 
"  If  you  should  treat  him  as  Cragin  and  David  do,  you  would 
have  nothing  to  complain  of." 

"  I  treat  him  well,  sir ;  but  I  make  him  Tcnow  his  place." 
The  last  words  were  emphasized  in  a  hard,  wicked  tone. 

Certain  old  recollections  had  been  rushing  across  my  mind 
during  the  latter  part  of  this  conversation,  and  this  last  remark 
brought  me  to  my  feet,  as  I  said : 

"  You  treat  him  like  a  dog,  sir  !  I  have  seen  it.  If  he 
were  not  your  son,  he  should  not  stay  with  you  another  day  !  " 


A     SUDDEN     DISSOLUTION.  239 

In  my  excitement  I  crossed  the  room,  and  stood  directlv 
before  him.  '  His  face  flushed,  and  his  eye  quailed  before  my 
steady  gaze,  but  he  said  nothing. 

David  remarked,  in  a  mild  tone  :  "  Edmund,  that  ain't  the 
right  spirit,  it  ain't." 

"  You  don't  know  the  whole,  David.  If  you  did,  even  you 
would  say  he  is  the  basest  wretcli  living." 

Hallet  pressed  his  teeth  together  ;  his  eyes  flashed  fire,  and 
he  seemed  about  to  spring  upon  me.  Mastering  his  passion, 
he  rose,  after  a  moment,  and  extended  his  hand,  saying : 

"Come,  Mr.  Kirke,  this  is  not  the  talk  of  old  friends! 
Let  us  shake  hands,  and  forget  it." 

"  Never,  sir  !  I  took  your  hand  for  the  last  time  when  I 
left  this  counting  room,  twenty  years  ago.  I  never  touch  it 
again  !     I  shall  tell  that  boy,  to-night,  that  you  are  his  father." 

"  You  will  not  do  so  imprudent  a  thing  ?  I  will  do  any- 
thing for  him — anything  you  require.  I  promise  you,  on  my 
honor ; "  and  the  stately  head  of  the  great  house  of  Russell, 
Rollins  &  Co.  sank  into  a  chair,  and  bent  down,  like  a  con- 
victed criminal. 

"  I  cannot  trust  you,"  I  said,  pacing  the  room. 

"  Thee  can,  Edmund ;  he  means  it.  He  is  sorry  for  the 
wrong  he's  done,"  said  the  old  bookkeeper,  in  the  mild,  win- 
ning tone  which  made  me  so  love  him  in  my  boyhood. 

"  Well,  let  him  prove  that  he  means  it ;  let  him  tell  you 
all ;  let  him  tell  you  how  much  he  has  to  repent  of ! " 

"  I  have  told  him  all.     I  told  him  years  ago." 

"  Did  you  tell  him  how  you  cast  off  the  poor  girl  ?  how  for 
years  she  vainly  plead  for  a  paltry  pittance  to  keep  her  child 
from  starving,  and  herself  from  sin  ?     Did  you  tell  him  how 


240  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

you  drove  her  from  you  with  curses,  -when  she  prayed  to  be 
saved  from  the  pit  of  infamy  into  which  you  had  plunged  her  ? 
Did  you  tell  him" — and  he  writhed  on  his  seat  in  such  agony 
as  only  the  guilty  can  feel — "  how,  at  last,  after  all  those 
wretched  years,  she  died  of  starvation  and  disease,  with  all 
that  mountain  of  sin  on  her  soul,  and  all  of  it  heaped  on  her 
by.YOU  !  " 

11  Oh,  no  ;  I  did  not — I  could  not  tell  him  that !  I  did  not 
know  I  had  done  that !  "  groaned  the  stately  gentleman. 

"  You  he,  John  Hallet !  you  know  you  lie  !  and  may  God 
deal  with  you  as  you  dealt  with  her  ;  "  and  I  took  up  my  hat, 
and  laid  my  hand  on  the  door. 

"  Stop !  stop,  Edmund !  Don't  go  with  those  words. 
Thee  would  not  have  God  deal  with  thee,  as  thee  has  dealt 
with  others  !  "  said  David,  in  the  same  mild  tone  as  before. 

"  True,  David  ;  I  should  not  wish  him  harm  ;  but  I  loathe 
and  detest  the  hypocritical  villain.  Frank  shall  leave  him  to- 
night, and  forever !  " 

Hallet  looked  up.  His  face  was  pale  as  marble,  and  his 
hands  clenched  tightly  the  arms  of  his  chair.  "  Don't  go, 
Mr.  Kirke,"  he  cried ;  "  stay  one  moment.  Can't  this  be 
arranged  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Sign  a  dissolution  at  once — here — xow  ;  and 
give  Frank  your  check  for  twenty  thousand  dollars." 

"  No,  no  !  You  don't  mean  that !  It  is  too  much — you 
can't  ask  that  !  "  gasped  the  great  merchant. 

"  Too  much  for  the  son  of  a  man  worth  a  million  ?  Too 
much  for  starving  his  mother,  and  turning  him  adrift  at  seven 
years  old  ?  It  is  not  enough !  He  must  have  thirty  thou- 
sand!" 


A     SUDDEN     DISSOLUTION.  241 

"  You  are  mad,  Mr.  Kirke  !  "  and  he  looked  at  me  with 
a  pleading  face.  M  I  cannot  pay  that  amount  down.  It  is  im- 
possible." 

u  David,  how  much  has  he  in  bank  on  private  account?  " 
Hallet  cast  a  beseeching  glance  at  his  bookkeeper ;    but, 
without  moving  a  muscle,  the  old  man  replied : 
"  Fifty-three  thousand." 

11 1  knew  you  lied,  Hallet.     It  is  natural  to  you." 
•'  But  I  can't  let  Frank  go  without  Mr.  Cragin's  consent." 
"  I  will  arrange  with  Cragin.     Sign  the  check,  and  draw 
the  paper  at  once,  or  I  go." 

''But  give  me  time  to  think — see  me  to-morrow." 
"  I  shall  never  exchange  a  word  with  you  after  to-night. 
You  can  have  ten  minutes — not  a  second  more  ; "  and  I  took 
out  my  watch  to  count  the  time. 

He  rested  his  head  on  his  hand  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
turning  to  me,  said  : 

u  You  promise  that  this  interview,  and  all  that  has  passed, 
shall  never  be  mentioned  by  you  ?  " 

"  That  depends  on  yourself — never  without  cause." 
"  DavitJ^please  write  the  check,"  said  the  senior  partner, 
proceeding  himself  to  draw  up  the  agreement.  In  a  few  min- 
utes he  handed  it  to  me.  It  was  short,  and  merely  recited  that 
the  copartnership  which  had  theretofore  existed  between  John 
Hallet,  Augustus  Cragin,  and  Henry  F.  MandeD,  under  the 
name  and  style  of  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co.,  was  on  that  day  dis- 
solved by  mutual  consent ;  said  Mandell  withdrawing,  and 
assigning  the  control  of  all  the  assets  of  said  firm  to  said  Hal- 
let and  Cragin,  and  releasing  to  said  Hallet  any  portion  of  its 
capital  and  profits  to  which  he  might  be  entitled. 
11 


242  MY     SOU  THE  EX     FRIENDS. 

I  read  the  document,  and  quietly  handed  it  back. 

"That  will  not  do,  Mr.  Hallet.  Thirty  thousand  dollars 
settles  with  you,  his  father.  I  have  not,  and  shall  not  make 
any  settlement  with  the  firm.  David  must  pay  Frank  what  is 
due  him — no  more,  no  less." 

"  But,"  began  Mr.  Hallet. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  on  the  subject,  sir." 

He  drew  a  long  sigh.  The  parting  with  an  only  son,  and 
with  thirty  thousand  dollars,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  affected 
him  deeply.  He  might  have  borne  the  loss  of  the  son  ;  but 
the  loss  of  the  money  rent  his  distorted  soul  into  fragments. 
However,  he  rewrote  the  paper,  and  passed  it  to  me.  It  was 
all  right ;  and  when  he  had  ^igned,  and  David  had  witnessed 
it,  I  placed  it  in  my  pocket  book.  Then,  with  a  trembling 
hand,  he  handed  me  the  check.  It  was  drawn  to  my  order ; 
and  I  remarked,  as  I  took  it : 

"This  is  not  what  I  require,  sir.  I  want  your  check, 
indorsed  by  David." 

"  This  is  most  unaccountable,  Mr.  Kirke.  Do  you  question 
my  check  for  thirty  thousand  dollars?"  he  asked,  his  face 
flushing  with  anger. 

"  Oh  !  no,  sir,  not  at  all ;  but  you  might  stop  its  payment. 
"With  David's  indorsement,  you  would  not  dare  to  do  it." 

"  I  will  indorse  it,"  said  David ;  and  he  quietly  proceeded 
to  write  another. 

That  hard,  soulless  man  had  a  wife  and  children  ;  but  that 
old  bookkeeper  was  the  only  living  thing  in  all  the  wide  world 
that  he  either  loved  or  trusted  ! 

I  placed  the  check  with  the  other  paper,  and,  with  David, 
soon  passed  down  the  old  stairway. 


A     SUDDEN     DISSOLUTION.  243 

****** 

I  found  Selma  plunged  in  the  deepest  grief.  The  telegram 
which  informed  her  of  Preston's  death  was  dated  three  days 
before  (it  had  been  sent  to  Goldsboro  for  transmission,  the  tele- 
graph lines  not  then  running  to  Newbern),  and  she  could  not 
possibly  reach  the  plantation  until  after  her  father's  burial ;  but 
she  insisted  on  going  at  once.  She  would  have  his  body  ex- 
humed ;  she  must  take  a  last  look  at  that  face  which  had  never 
beamed  on  her  but  in  love  ! 

Frank  proposed  to  escort  her,  but  she  knew  he  could  not 
well  be  spared  from  business  at  that  season ;  and,  with  a 
bravery  and  self-reliance  not  common  to  her  years  and  her  sex, 
she  determined  to  go  alone. 

Shortly  after  my  arrival  at  the  house,  she  retired  to  her 
room  with  Kate,  to  make  the  final  arrangements  for  the  jour- 
ney ;  and  I  seated  myself  with  David,  Cragin,  and  Frank,  in 
the  little  back  parlor,  which  the  gray-haired  old  Quaker  and 
his  son-in-law  had  converted  into  a  smoking  room. 

As  Cragin  was  lighting  his  cigar,  I  said  to  him  : 

II  Have  you  heard  the  news  ?  " 
"  What  news  ?  " 

"  The  dissolution  of  Russell,  Rollins  &  Co." 

"  No  ;  there's  nothing  so  good  stirring.     But  you'll  hear  it 

some  two  years  hence." 

"  Read  that ; "  and  I  handed  him  the  paper  which  Hallet 

had  signed. 

"What  is  it,  father?"  asked  Frank,  his  face  alive  with 
interest. 

"  Cragin  will  show  it  to  you,  if  it  ever  gets  through  his 
hair.     I  reckon  he's  learning  to  read."  # 


» 

244  MY     SOUTHERN     FKIENDS. 

"  "Well,  I  believe  I  can't  read.  What  the  deuce  does  it 
mean  ?  " 

"  Just  what  it  says — Frank  is  free." 

The  young  man  glanced  over  the  paper.  His  face  ex- 
pressed surprise,  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  Then  you've  heard  how  things  have  been  going  on  ?  " 
asked  Cragin. 

"  No,  not  a  word.  I've  seen  that  Hallet  was  abusing  the 
boy  shamefully.  I  came  on,  wanting  an  excuse  to  break  the 
copartnership." 

"  Do  you  know  you've  done  me  the  greatest  service  in  the 
world  ?  I  told  Hallet,  the  other .  day.  that  we  couldn't  pull 
together  much  longer.  He  refused  to  let  me  off  till  our  term 
is  up ;  but  I've  got  him  now ; "  and  he  laughed  in  boyish 
glee. 

"  Of  course,  the  paper  releases  you  as  well  as  Frank.  It's 
a  general  dissolution." 

"  Of  course  it  is.  How  did  you  manage  to  get  it  ?  Hal- 
let must  have  been  crazy.  He  wasn't  John  Hallet,  that's  cer- 
tain ! " 

"  The  genuine  John,  but  a  little  excited." 

u  He  must  have  been.  But  I'm  rid  of  him,  thank  the 
Lord  !  Come,  what  do  you  say  to  Frank's  going  in  with  me  ? 
I'll  pack  him  off  to  Europe  at  once — he  can  secure  most  of 
the  old  business." 

"  He  must  decide  about  that.  He  can  come  with  me,  if  he 
likes.  He'll  not  go  a  begging,  that's  certain.  He'll  have 
thirty  thousand  to  start  with." 

"  Thirty  thousand  !  "  exclaimed  Frank.  "  No,  father,  you 
can't  do4hat ;  you  need  every  dollar  you've  got." 


A     SUDDEN     DISSOLUTION.  245 

"  Ye?,  I  do,  and  more  too.  But  the  money  is  yours,  not 
mine.     You  shall  have  it  to-morrow." 

"  Mine  !     Where  did  it  come  from  ?  " 

11  From  a  relative  of  yours.  But  he's  modest ,  he  don't 
want  to  be  known." 

"  But  I  ought  to  know.     I  thought  I  had  no  relatives." 

"  "Well,  you  haven't — only  this  one,  and  he's  rich  as  mud. 
He  gave  you  the  five  thousand  ;  but  this  is  a  last  instalment — 
you  won't  get  another  red  cent." 

"  I  don't  feel  exactly  like  taking  money  in  that  way." 

"  Pshaw,  my  boy  !  I  tell  you  it's  yours — rightfully  and 
honestly.  You  ought  to  have  more  ;  but  he's  closefisted,  and 
you  must  be  content  with  this." 

"  Well,  Frank,"  said  Cragin,  "  what  do  you  say  to  hitching 
horses  with  me  ?  I'll  give  you  two  fifths,  and  put  a  hundred 
against  your  thirty." 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  Frank  to  me. 

"  You'd  better  accept.     It's  more  than  I  can  allow  you." 

"  Then  it's  a  trade  ?  "  asked  Cragin. 

"Yes,"  said  Frank. 

"  Well,  old  gentleman,  what  do  you  say — will  you  move 
the  old  stool  ?  "  said  Cragin,  addressing  David. 

11  Yes  ;  I  like  Frank  too  well  to  stay  with  even  his  father." 

In  the  gleeful  mood  which  had  taken  possession  of  the  old 
man,  the  words  slipped  from  his  tongue  before  he  was  aware 
of  it.  H^  would  have  recalled  them  on  the  instant,  but  it  was 
too  late.     Cragin  caught  them,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  His  father  !  Well,  that  explains  some  riddles.  D — d  if 
I  won't  call  the  new  firm  Hallet,  Cragin  &  Co.  I've  got  him 
all  around — ha  !  ha  !  " 


246  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Frank  seemed  thunderstruck.  Soon  he  plied  me  with 
questions. 

"I  can  say  nothing;  I  gave  my  word  I  would  not. 
David  has  betrayed  it ;  let  him  explain,  if  he  pleases." 

The  old  bookkeeper  then  told  the  young  man  his  history, 
revealing  everything  but  the  degradation  of  his  poor  mother. 
Frank  walked  the  room,  struggling  with  contending  emotions. 
When  David  concluded,  he  put  his  hand  in  mine,  and  spoke  a 
few  low  words.  His  voice  sounded  like  his  mother's.  It  was 
again  her  blessing  that  I  heard. 

****** 

Two  weeks  afterward,  the  old  sign  came  down  from  the  old 
warehouse — came  down,  after  hanging  there  three  quarters 
of  a  century,  and  in  its  place  went  up  a  black  board,  on  winch, 
emblazoned  in  glaring  gilt  letters,  were  the  two  words, 

"John  Hallet." 

On  the  same  day,  the  busy  crowd  passing  up  old  Long 
Wharf  might  have  seen,  over  a  doorway  not  far  distant,  a 
plainer  sign.     It  read  : 

"  Cragin.  Mandell  &  Co." 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 


A      HURRIED      JOURNEY 


Kate  heard  frequently  from  Selma  within  the  first  two 
months  after  her  departure,  but  then  her  letters  suddenly 
ceased.  Her  last  one  expressed  the  intention  of  returning  to 
the  North  during  the  following  week.  We  looked  for  her,  but 
she  did  not  come.  "Week  after  week  went  by,  and  still  she 
did  not  come.  Kate  wrote,  inquiring  when  we  might  expect 
her,  but  received  no  reply.  She  wrote  again  and  again,  and 
still  no  answer  came.  "  Something  has  happened  to  her.  Do 
write  Mrs.  Preston,"  said  Kate.  I  wrote  her.  She  either  did 
not  deign  to  reply,  or  she  did  not  receive  the  letter. 

None  of  Selma's  friends  had  heard  from  her  for  more  than 
three  months,  and  we  were  in  a  state  of  painful  anxiety  and 
uncertainty,  when,  one  morning,  among  my  letters,  I  found  one 
addressed  to  my  wife,  in  Selma's  handwriting.  Her  previous 
letters  had  been  mailed  at  Trenton,  but  this  was  postmarked 
"  Newbern."  I  sent  it  at  once  to  my  house.  About  an  hour 
afterward  I  was  surprised  by  Kate's  appearance  in  the  office. 
Her  face  was  pale,  her  manner  hurried  and  excited.  She 
held  a  small  carpet  bag  in  her  hand. 

11  You  must  start  at  once  by  the  first  train.  You've  not  a 
moment  to  spare  !  " 


248  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIENDS. 

"  Start  where  ?  " 

She  handed  me  the  letter.     "  Read  that." 

It  was  hurriedly  and  nervously  written.     I  read  : 

"  My  dearest  Friend  :  I  know  you  have  not  forsaken 
me,  but  I  have  written  you,  oh  !  so  many  times.  To-day,  Ally 
has  told  me  that  perhaps  our  letters  are  intercepted  at  the 
Trenton  post  office.  It  must  be  so.  He  takes  this  to  New- 
bern.  Is  he  not  kind?  He  has  been  my  faithful  friend 
through  all.  Though  ordered  away  from  the  plantation,  he 
refused  to  go,  and  stood  by  me  through  the  worst.  He,  whom 
my  own  sister  so  cruelly  wronged,  has  done  everything  for 
me !     Whatever  may  become  of  me,  I  shall  ever  bless  him. 

"I  have  not  heard  from  or  seen  any  of  my  friends.  Even 
my  brother  has  not  answered  my  letters ;  but  he  must  be  here 
on  the  17th,  at  the  sale.  That  is  now  my  only  hope.  I  shall 
then  be  freed  from  this  nifsery — worse  than  death.  God  bless 
you !  Your  wretched  Selma." 

"I  will  go,"  was  all  that  I  said.  Kate  sat  down,  and 
wept.  "  Oh  !  some  terrible  thing  has  befallen  her !  What 
can  it  be  ?  " 

I  was  giving  some  hurried  directions  to  my  partners,  when 
a  telegram  was  handed  in.  It  was  from  Boston,  and  addressed 
to  me  personally.     I  opened  it,  and  read  : 

"  I  have  just  heard  that  Selma  is  a  slave.  To  be  sold  on 
the  seventeenth.  I  can't  go.  You  must.  Buy  her  on  my 
account.  Pay  any  price.  I  have  written  Frank.  Let  noth- 
ing prevent  your  starting  at  once.  If  your  partners  should 
be  short  while  you're  away,  let  them  draw  on  me. 

"Augustus  Cragix." 


A     HURRIED     JOURNEY.  249 

It  was  then  the  morning  of  the  twelfth.  Making  all  the 
connections,  and  there  being  no  delay  of  the  trains,  I  should 
reach  the  plantation  early  on  the  seventeenth. 

At  twelve  o'clock  I  was  on  the  way.  Steam  was  too  slow 
for  mv  impatience.  I  would  have  harnessed  the  lightning. 
At  last — it  was  sundown  of  the  sixteenth — the  stage  drove 
into  Newbern. 

With  my  carpet  bag  in  my  hand,  I  rushed  into  the  hotel. 
Four  or  five  loungers  were  in  the  office,  and  the  lazy  bar- 
tender was  mixing  drinks  behind  the  counter. 

"  Sir,  I  want  a  horse,  or  a  horse  and  buggy,  at  once." 

"  A  horse  ?     Ye're  in  a  hurry,  hain't  ye  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  "Wall,  I  reckon  ye'll  hev  ter  git  over  it.  Thar  hain't  a 
durned  critter  in  th'  whole  place." 

"  I'm  in  no  mood  for  jesting,  sir.  I  want  a  horse  at  once. 
I  will  deposit  twice  his  value." 

"  Ye  couldn't  git  nary  critter,  stranger,  ef  ye  wus  made 
uv  gold.     They're  all  off — off  ter  Squire  Preston's  sale." 

"  The  sale  !     Has  it  begun  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  !     Ben  a  gwine  fur  two  days." 

My  heart  sank  within  me.     I  was  too  late  ! 

"  Are  all  the  negroes  sold  ?  " 

"  Xo  ;  them  comes  on  ter  morrer.    He's  got  a  likely  gang." 
I  breathed  more  freely.     At  this  moment  a  well-dressed 
gentleman,  followed  by  a  good-looking  yellow  man,  entered  the   - 
room.      He  wore  spurs,   and  was  covered  with  dust.      Ap- 
proaching the  counter,  he  said  : 

"  Here,  you  lousy  devil — a  drink  for  me  and  my  boy.     I'm 
dryer  than  a  parson — Old  Bourbon." 
11* 


250  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIENDS. 

As  the  bartender  poured  out  the  liquor,  the  newcomer's  eye 
fell  upon  me.  His  face  seemed  familiar,  but  I  could  not  recall 
it.  Scanning  me  for  a  moment,  he  held  out  his  hand  in  a  free, 
cordial  manner,  saying : 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Kirke,  is  tins  you  ?  You  don't  remember  me  ? 
my  name  is  Gaston." 

14  Mr.  Gaston,  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  I  replied,  returning  Ins 
salutation. 

"  Have  a  drink,  sir  ?  " 

"  Thank  you."  I  emptied  the  glass.  I  was  jaded,  and 
had  eaten  nothing  since  morning.  "  I'm  in  pursuit  of  a  horse 
under  difficulties,  Mr.  Gaston.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  where 
to  get  one.     I  must  be  at  Preston's  to-night." 

"  They're  scarcer  than  hen's  teeth  round  here,  just  now,  I 
reckon.  But  hold  on ;  I  go  there  in  the  morning.  I'll  bor- 
row a  buggy,  and  you  can  ride  up  with  me." 

"  No,  I  must  be  there  to-night.     How  far  is  it  ?  " 

"  Twenty  miles." 

"  Well,  I'll  walk.     Landlord,  give  me  supper  at  once." 

"  Walk  there  !  My  dear  sir,  we  don't  abuse  strangers  in 
1  these  diggin's.'  The  road  is  sandier  than  an  Arab  desert. 
You'd  never  get  there  afoot.  Tom,"  he  added,  calling  to  his 
man,  "  give  Buster  some  oats ;  rub  him  down,  and  have  him 
here  in  half  an  hour.  Vanish,  now,  like  greased  lightning." 
Then,  turning  to  me,  he  continued  :  "  You  can  have  my  horse. 
He's  a  spirited  fellow,  and  you'll  need  to  keep  an  eye  on  him ; 
but  he'll  get  you  there  in  two  hours." 

"  But  how  will  you  get  on  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  my  boy's,  and  leave  the  darky  here." 

"Mr.  Gaston,  I  cannot  tell  you  the  service  you're  doing  me." 


A     HUB  EI  ED     JOUENEY.  251 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,  my  dear  sir.  A  stranger  can  have 
anything  of  mine  but  my  wife.  I  keep  her  as  private  prop- 
erty ;  "  and  he  laughed  pleasantly. 

He  went  with  me  into  the  supper  room,  and  there  told  me 
that  the  sale  of  Preston's  plantation,  furniture,  live  stock,  farm 
tools,  &c,  had  occupied  the  two  previous  days ;  and  that  the 
negroes  were  to  be  put  on  the  block  at  nine  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  "  I've  got  my  eye  on  one  or  two  of  them,  that  I 
mean  to  buy.     The  niggers  will  sell  well,  I  reckon." 

After  supper,  we  strolled  again  into  the  barroom.  Ap- 
proaching the  counter,  my  eye  fell  on  the  hotel  register, 
which  lay  open  upon  it.  I  glanced  involuntarily  over  the 
book.  Among  the  arrivals  of  the  previous  day,  I  noticed  two 
recorded  in  a  hand  that  I  at  once  recognized.  The  names 
were,   "John  Hallet,  Neio  Orleans;  Jacob  Larkix,  ditto" 

"  Are  these  gentlemen  here  ?  "  I  asked  the  bartender. 

"  No  ;  they  left  same  day  the'  come." 

"  Where  did  they  go  ?  " 

"  Doan't  know." 

In  five  minutes,  with  my  carpet  bag  strapped  to  the  pom- 
mel of  the  saddle,  I  was  bounding  up  the  road  to  Trenton. 

It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  I  sprang  from  the  horse, 
and  rang  the  bell  at  the  mansion.  A  light  was  burning  in  the 
library,  but  the  rest  of  the  house  was  dark.  A  negro  opened 
the  door. 

"  Where  is  Master  Joe,  or  Miss  Selly  ?  " 

"  In  de  library,  massa.     I'll  tell  dem  you'm  yere." 

"  Xo  ;  I'll  go  myself.     Look  after  my  hoi 

I  strode  through  the  parlors  and  the  passage  way  to  the  old 
room.     Selma  was  seated  on  a  lounge  by  the  side  of  Joe,  her 


252  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

head  on  his  shoulder.     As  I  opened  the  door,  I  spoke  the  two 

words  :   "  My  child  !  " 

She  looked   up,  sprang  to  her  feet,   and   rushed  into  my 

arms. 

11  And  you  are  safe  !  "  I  cried,  putting  back  her  soft  brown 

hair,  and  kissing  her  pale,  beautiful  forehead. 

"  Yes,  I  am  safe.     My  brother  is  here — I  am  safe." 

"  Joe — God  bless  you ! — you're  a  noble  fellow  !  " 

He  was  only  twenty-three,  but  his  face  was  already  seamed 

and  haggard,  and  his  hair  thickly  streaked  with  white  !     "We 

sat  down,  and  from  Selma's  lips  I  learned  the  events  of  the 

preceding  months. 


CHAPTER   XXY. 

TRUTH    TIIAT    IS    STRANGER    THAN    FICTION. 

Selma  arrived  at  home  about  a  week  after  her  father's 
funeral.  The  affairs  of  the  plantation  were  going  on  much  aa 
usual,  but  Mrs.  Preston  was  there  in  apparently  the  greatest 
grief.  She  seemed  inconsolable ;  talked  much  of  her  loss,  and 
expressed  great  fears  for  the  future.  Her  husband  had  left  no 
will,  and  nothing  would  remain  for  her  but  the  dower  in  the 
real  estate,  and  that  would  sell  for  but  little. 

The  more  Preston's  affairs  were  investigated,  the  worse 
they  appeared.  He  was  in  debt  everywhere.  An  adminis- 
trator was  appointed,  and  he  decided  that  a  sale  of  everything 
— the  two  plantations  and  the  negroes — would  be  necessary. 

Selma  felt  little  interest  in  the  pecuniary  result,  but  sympa- 
thy for  her  stepmother  induced  her  to  remain  at  home,  week 
after  week,  when  her  presence  there  was  no  longer  of  service. 
At  last  she  made  preparations  to  return ;  but,  as  she  was 
on  the  point  of  departure,  Mrs.  Preston — whose  face  then 
wore  an  expression  of  triumphant  malignity  which  chilled 
Selma's  very  life-blood — told  her  that  she  could  not  go ;  that 
she  was  a  part  of  her  father's  estate,  and  must  remain,  and  be 
sold  with  the  other  negroes  ! 

Dawsey,  shortly  prior  to  this,  had  become  a  frequent  visitor 


254  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

at  the  plantation ;  and, '  the  week  before,  Phyllis  had  been 
dreadfully  whipped  under  his  supervision.  Selma  interceded 
for  her,  but  could  not  avert  the  punishment.  She  did  not  at 
the  .time  know  why  it  was  done,  but  at  last  the  reason  was 
revealed  to  her. 

Among  the  papers  of  the  first  Mrs.  Preston,  the  second 
wife  had  found  a  bill  of  sale,  by  which,  in  consideration  of  one 
gold  watch,  two  diamond  rings,  an  emerald  pin,  two  gold 
bracelets,   some  family  plate,   and  other  jewelry,  of  the  total 

value  of  five  hundred  dollars,  General  ,  of   Newbern, 

had  conveyed  a  negro  girl  called  M  Lucy,"  to  Mrs.  Lucy  Pres- 
ton, wife  of  Robert  Preston,  Esq.  Said  girl  was  described  as 
seven  years  old,  light  complexioned,  with  long,  curly  hair,  of 
a  golden  brown ;  and  the  child  of  Phyllis,  otherwise  called 
Phyllis  Preston,  then  the  property  of  Jacob  Larkin. 

Mrs.  Preston  inquired  of  Phyllis  what  had  become  of  the 
child.  The  nurse  denied  all  knowledge  of  it ;  but  Selma's  age, 
her  peculiar  hair,  and  her  strong  resemblance  to  Rosey,  excited 
the  Yankee  woman's  suspicions,  and  she  questioned  the  mother 
more  closely.  Phyllis  still  denied  all  knowledge  of  her  child, 
and,  for  that  denial,  was  whipped — whipped  till  her  flesh  was 
cut  into  shreds,  and  she  fainted  from  loss  of  blood.  After  the 
whipping,  she  was  left  in  an  old  cabin,  to  live  or  die — her  mis- 
tress did  not  care  which  ;  and  there  Ally  found  her  at  night, 
on  his  return  from  his  work  in  the  swamp.  "Wrapping  her 
mangled  body  in  an  oiled  sheet,  he  conveyed  her  to  his  cabin. 
Dinah  carefully  nursed  her,  and  ere  long  she  was  able  to  sit 
up.  Then  Mrs.  Preston  told  her  that,  as  soon  as  she  was  suffi- 
ciently recovered  to  live  through  it,  she  would  be  again  and 
again  beaten,  till  she  disclosed  the  fate  of  the  child. 


TRUTH     STRANGER     THAN     FICTION.  255 

She  still  denied  all  knowledge  of  it ;  but,  fearing  the  r 
of  her  mistress;  she  sent  for  her  husband,  then  keeping  a  small 
groo-gery  at  Trenton,  four  miles  away.  He  came,  and  had  a 
conference  with  Ally  and  Dinah  about  the  best  way  of  saving 
his  wife  from  further  abuse.  Phyllis  was  unable  to  walk  or  to 
ride,  therefore  flight  was  out  of  the  question.  Ally  proposed 
that  Mulock  should  oversee  his  gang  for  a  time,  while  he  re- 
mained about  home,  and  kept  watch  over  her.  None  of  the 
negroes  could  be  induced  to  whip  her  in  his  presence;  and 
if  Dawsey  or  any  other  white  man  attempted  it,  he  was  free 
— he* would  meet  them  with  their  own  weapons.  Mulock 
agreed  to  this,  and  the  next  day  went  to  the  swamp. 

Learning  of  his  presence  on  the  plantation,  the  mistress 
sent  for  him,  and,  by  means  of  a  paltry  bribe,  induced  him  to 
reveal  all !  Selma  thought  he  loved  Phyllis  as  much  as  his 
brutal  nature  was  capable  of  loving,  and  that  he  betrayed  her 
to  save  her  mother  from  further  ill  usage. 

The  next  morning,  four  strong  men  entered  Ally's  cabin 
before  he  had  left  his  bed,  bound  him  hand  and  foot,  and 
dragged  Phyllis  away,  to  be  again  whipped  for  having  refused 
to  betray  Selma.  Unable  to  stand,  she  was  tied  to  a  stake,  and 
unmercifully  beaten.  "Weak  from  the  effects  of  the  previous 
whipping,  and  crushed  in  spirit  by  anxiety  for  her  child,  nature 
could  no  longer  sustain  her.  A  fever  set  in,  and,  at  the  end 
of  a  week,  she  died. 

Selma  was  told  of  their  relation  to  each  other.  The  nurse, 
so  devotedly  attached  to  her,  and  whom  she  had  so  long  loved, 
was  her  own  mother !  She  learned  this  only  in  time  to  see 
her  die,  and  to  hear  her  last  blessing. 

Then  Selma  experienced  all  the  bitterness  of  slavery.     She 


256  MY      SOUTHEEN     FRIENDS. 

was  set  at  work  in  the  kitchen  with  the  other  slaves.  It 
seemed  that  Mrs.  Preston  took  especial  delight  in  assigning  to 
the  naturally  high-spirited  and  sensitive  girl  the  most  menial 
employments.  Patiently  trusting  in  God  that  He  would  send 
deliverance,  she  endeavored  to  perform,  uncomplainingly,  her 
allotted  tasks.  "Wholly  unaccustomed  to  such  work,  weary  in 
body  and  sick  at  heart,  she  dragged  herself  about  from  day 
to  day,  till  at  last  Mrs.  Preston,  disgusted  with  her  "  laziness," 
as  she  termed  it,  directed  her  to  be  taken  to  the  quarters  and 
beaten  with  fifty  lashes!  « 

Ally  had  been  ordered  away  by  the  mistress,  and  that  morn- 
ing had  gone  to  Trenton  to  consult  the  administrator,  and  get 
his  permission  to  stay  on  the  plantation.  That  gentleman — a 
kind-hearted,  upright  man — not  only  told  him  he  could  remain, 
but  gave  him  a  written  order  to  take  and  keep  Selma  in  hi3 
custody. 

He  returned  at  night,  to  find  she  had  been  whipped.  His 
blood  boiling  with  rage,  he  entered  the  mansion,  and  demanded 
to  see  her.  Mrs.  Preston  declined.  He  then  gave  her  the 
order  of  the  administrator.  She  tore  it  into  fragments,  and 
bade  him  leave  the  house.  He  refused  to  go  without  Selma, 
and  quietly  seated  himself  on  the  sofa.  Mrs.  Preston  then 
called  in  ten  or  twelve  of  the  field  hands,  and  told  them  to 
eject  him.  They  either  would  not  or  dared  not  do  it ;  and, 
without  more  delay,  he  proceeded  to  search  for  Selma.  At 
last  he  found  her  apartment.  He  burst  open  the  door,  and  saw 
her  lying  on  a  low,  miserable  bed,  writhing  in  agony  from  her 
wounds.  Throwing  a  blanket  over  her,  he  lifted  her  in  his 
arms,  and  carried  her  to  his  cabin.  Dinah  carefully  attended 
her,  and  that  night  she  thanked  God,  and — slept. 


TBUTII      STRANGER     THAN     FICTION.  257 

The  next  morning,  before  the  sun  was  fully  up,  Dawsey 
and  three  other  white  men,  heavily  armed,  came  to  the  cabin, 
and  demanded  admittance.  Ally  refused,  and  barricaded  the 
door.  They  finally  stealthily  effected  an  entrance  through  a 
window  in  the  kitchen,  and,  breaking  down  the  communication 
with  the  "living  room,"  in  winch  apartment  the  mulatto  man 
and  his  mother  were,  they  rushed  in  upon  them.  Ally,  the 
previous  day,  had  procured  a  couple  of  revolvers  at  Trenton, 
and  Dinah  and  he,  planting  themselves  before  the  door  of  old 
Deborah's  room,  in  which  Selma  was  sleeping,  pointed  the 
weapons  at  the  intruders.  The  assailants  paused,  when  Daw- 
sey shouted  out :  "  Are  you  afraid  of  two  d — d  niggers — and 
one  a  woman  !  "  Aiming  his  pistol  at  Ally,  he  fired.  The 
ball  struck  the  negro's  left  arm.  Discharging  two  or  three 
barrels  at  them,  the  old  woman  and  her  son  then  rushed  upon 
the  white  men,  and  they  fled  !  all  but  one — he  remained ; 
for  Dinah  caught  him  in  a  loving  embrace,  and  pummelled  him 
until  he  might  have  been  mistaken  for  calves-foot  jelly. 

Ally  then  sent  a  messenger  to  the  administrator,  who  rode 
over  in  the  afternoon,  and  took  Selma  to  his  own  house. 
There  she  remained  till  her  brother  reached  the  plantation — 
three  days  before  my  arrival. 

As  soon  as  she  was  safely  at  Trenton,  Selma  wrote  to  her 
friends,  mailing  the  letters  at  that  post  office.  She  received  no 
answers.  Again  and  again  she  wrote ;  the  administrator  also 
wrote,  but  still  no  replies  came.  At  last  Ally  suggested  mail- 
ing the  letters  at  Newbern,  and  rode  down  with  one  to  Joe, 
one  to  Alice,  and  one  to  Kate. 

Her  brother  came  on  at  once.  In  the  first  ebullition  of  his 
anger  he  ejected  his  stepmother  from  the  mansion.     She  went 


258  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

to  Dawsey's,  and,  the  next  day,  appeared  at  the  sale  with  that 
gentleman ;  and  then  announced  that  for  two  months  she  had 
been  the  woman-whipper's  wife. 

Dawsey  had  bought  the  plantation,  and  most  of  the  furni- 
ture, the  day  before,  and  had  said  he  intended  to  buy  all  of  the 
"  prime  "  negroes. 

As  Selma  concluded,  Joe  quietly  remarked  : 

"  He'll  be  disappointed  in  that.  I  allowed  him  the  planta- 
tion and  furniture,  because  I've  no  use  for  them ;  but  I  made 
him  pay  more  than  they  are  worth.  The  avails  will  help  me 
through  with  father's  debts;  but  not  a  single  hand  shall  go 
into  his  clutches.     I  shall  buy  them  myself." 

"  What  will  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

11 1  have  bought  a  plantation  near  Mobile.  I  shall  put 
them  upon  it.  Joe  will  manage  them,  and  I'll  live  there  with 
Selly." 

"  You're  a  splendid  fellow,  Joe.  But  it  seems  a  pity  that 
woman  should  profane  your  father's  house." 

"  Oh  !  there's  no  danger  of  that.  I've  engaged  '  furnished 
apartments '  for  her  elsewhere." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  sheriff  is  asleep  up  stairs.  He  has  a  warrant  against 
her  for  the  murder  of  Phyllis.  When  she  comes  here  in  the 
morning,  it  will  be  served  !  " 


CHAP TEE    XXYI 


THE    NEGRO    SALE. 


The  next  morning  I  rose  early,  and  strolled  out  to  the 
negro  quarters.  At  the  distance  of  about  a  hundred  yards 
from  the  mansion,  the  sun  was  touching  the  tops  of  about 
thirty  canvas  camps,  and,  near  them,  large  numbers  of  horses, 
"all  saddled  and  bridled,"  were  picketed  among  the  trees. 
Some  dozens  of  "  natives  "  were  littered  around,  asleep  on  the 
ground ;  and  here  and  there  a  barelegged,  barefooted  woman 
was  lying  beside  a  man  on  a  "spring"  mattrass,  of  the  kind 
that  is  supposed  to  have  been  patented  in  Paradise. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning  in  May,  and  one  would  have 
thought,  from  the  appearance  of  the  motley  collection,  that  the 
whole  people  had  "  come  up  to  worship  the  Lord  in  their 
tents,"  after  the  manner  of  the  Israelites.  The  rich  planter, 
the  small  farmer,  the  "  white  trash  " — all  classes,  had  gathered 
to  the  negro  sale,  like  crows  to  a  feast  of  carrion. 

A  few  half-awake,  half-sober,  russet-clad,  bewhiskered 
"  gentry,"  were  lighting  fires  under  huge  iron  pots ;  but  the 
larger  portion  of  the  "  congregation "  was  still  wrapped  in 
slumber. 

Passing  them,  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  Ally's  cabin.  The 
family  was  already  astir,  and  the  various  members  gave  me  a 


260  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

greeting  that  cannot  be  bought  now  anywhere  with  a  handful 
of  "  greenbacks."  Boss  Joe,  Aggy,  and  old  Deborah  had 
arrived,  and  were  quartered  with  Ally. 

"An'  'ou  wusn't  a  gwine  ter  lefif  massa  Preston's  own 
chile  be  sole  widout  bein'  ycre  ;  wus  'ou,  massa  Kirke  ?  "  cried 
Dinah,  her  face  beaming  all  over  with  pleasurable  emotion. 

"  No,  Dinah  ;  and  I've  come  here  so  early  to  tell  you  how 
much  I  think  of  you.  A  woman  that  can  handle  four  white 
men  as  you  did,  is  fit  to  head  an  army." 

"  Lor'  bress  'ou,  massa !  dat  wusn't  nufnn'.  I  could 
handle  a  whole  meetin'-house  full  ob  sech  as  dem." 

"  Joe,  you  know  your  master's  plans,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yas,  massa  Kirke  ;   he  mean  ter  buy  all  de  folks." 

"  But  can  he  raise  money  enough  for  the  whole  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  so.     Massa  Joe  got  a  heap." 

"  But  don't  you  want  to  borrow  some  to  help  out  your 
pile?" 

"  I'se  'bliged  ter  you,  sar  ;  but  I  reckon  I  doan't.  I'se  got 
nigh  on  ter  free  thousan',  an'  nary  one'll  pay  more'n  dat  fur  a 
ole  man  an'  two  ole  wimmin." 

u  I  hope  not." 

I  remained  there  for  a  half  hour,  and  then  strolled  back  to 
the  mansion.  On  the  lawn,  at  the  side  of  the  house,  was  the 
auction  block — the  carpenter's  bench  which  had  officiated  at 
Ally's  wedding.  It  was  approached  by  a  flight  of  steps,  and 
at  one  end  was  the  salesman's  stand — a  high  stool,  in  front  of 
which  was  a  small  portable  desk  supported  on  stakes  driven 
into  the  ground.  Near  the  block  was  a  booth  fitted  up  for  the 
special  accommodation  of  thirsty  buyers.  The  proprietor  was 
just  opening  his  own  and  his  establishment's  peepers,  and  I 


THE     NEGRO     SALE.  201 

looked  in  upon  him.     His  red,  bloated  visage  seemed  familiar 
to  me.     Perceiving  me,  he  said  : 

"  How  is  ye,  stranger  ?     Hev  a  eye-opener  ?  " 

"I  reckon  not,  old  fellow;  but  I  ought  to  know  you. 
Your  name  is  Tom." 

"  Thomas,  stranger ;  but  Tom,  fur  short." 

"  "Well,  Thomas,  I  thought  you  had  taken  your  last  drink. 
I  saw  your  store  was  closed,  as  I  came  along." 

"  Yas ;  th'  durned  'ristocrats  driv  me  out  uv  thet  nigh  a 
yar  ago." 

14  And  where  are  you  now  ?  " 

u  Up  ter  Trenton.  I'm  doin'  right  smart  thar.  Me  an' 
Mulock — thet  used  ter  b'long  yere — is  in  partenship.  But 
whar  moight  ye  hev  seed  me,  stranger  ?  " 

11  At  your  store,  over  ten  years  since.  I  bought  a  woman 
there.     You  were  having  a  turkey  match  at  the  time." 

"  Oh,  yas !  I  'call  ye  now.  An'  th'  pore  gal's  dead ! 
Thet  d — d  Yankee  'ooman  shud  pull  hemp  fur  thet." 

"  Yes ;  but  the  devil  seldom  gets  his  due  in  this  world." 

1  Thet  ar's  a  fact,  stranger.  Come,  hev  a  drink  ;  I  woan't 
ax  ye  a  red!" 

"  No,  excuse  me,  Tom  ;  it's  before  breakfast ; "  and,  walk- 
ing off,  I  entered  the  mansion. 

****** 

Shortly  after  breakfast  the  people  from  the  neighboring 
plantations  began  to  gather  to  the  sale,  and,  by  the  hour 
appointed  for  it  to  commence,  about  five  hundred  men  and 
women  had  collected  on  the  ground.  Some  were  on  horse- 
back, some  in  carriages,  but  the  majority  were  seated  on  the 
grass,  or  on  benches  improvised  for  the  occasion. 


262  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIENDS. 

A  few  minutes  before  the  u  exercises n  commenced,  the 
negroes  were  marched  upon  the  lawn.  No  seats  had  been  pro- 
vided for  them,  and  they  huddled  together  inside  a  small  area 
staked  off  for  their  reception.  They  were  of  all  colors  and 
ages.  Husbands  and  wives,  parents  and  children,  grand- 
parents and  grandchildren,  aunts,  uncles,  and  cousins,  gath- 
ered in  little  family  groups,  and  breathlessly  awaited  the 
stroke  of  the  hammer  which  was  to  decide  their  destiny.  They 
were  all  clad  in  their  Sunday  clothes,  and  looked  clean  and 
tidy ;  but  on  every  face  except  Joe's  was  depicted  an  ill- 
defined  feeling  of  dread  and  consternation.  Husbands  held 
their  wives  in  their  arms,  and  mothers  hugged  their  children 
to  their  bosoms,  as  if  they  might  soon  part  forever  ;  but  when 
old  Joe  passed  among  them,  saying  a  low  word  to  this  one  and 
the  other,  their  cloudy  visages  brightened,  and  a  heavy  load 
seemed  to  roll  off  their  hearts.  Joe  was  as  radiant  as  a  sum- 
mer morning,  and  walked  about  with  a  quiet  dignity  and 
unconcern  that  might  have  led  one  to  think  him  the  owner  of 
the  entire  "  invoice  of  chattels." 

As  the  auctioneer — a  spruce  importation  from  Newbern — 
mounted  the  bench,  a  splendid  carriage,  drawn  by  two  magnifi- 
cent grays,  and  driven  by  a  darky  in  livery,  made  its  way 
through  the  crowd,  and  drew  up  opposite  the  stand.  In  it 
were  Dawsey  and  his  wife  ! 

The  salesman's  hammer  came  down.  "  Gentlemen  and 
ladies,"  he  said,  "  the  sale  has  commenced.  I  am  about  to 
offer  you  one  hundred  and  sixty-one  likely  negro  men  and 
women,  belonging  to  the  estate  of  Robert  Preston,  Esq., 
deceased.  Each  one  will  be  particularly  described  when  put 
up,  and  all  will  be  warranted  as  represented.     They  will  be 


THE     NEGRO     SALE.  2G3 

sold  in  families ;  that  is,  husbands  and  wives,  and  parents  and 
young  children,  will  not  be  separated.  The  terms  are,  one 
quarter  cash,  the  balance  in  one  year,  secured  by  an  approved 
indorsed  note.  Persons  having  claims  against  the  estate  will 
be  allowed  to  pay  by  authenticated  accounts  and  duebills. 
The  first  lot  I  shall  offer  you  will  be  the  mulatto  man  Joe  and 
his  wife  Agnes.  Joe  is  known  through  all  this  region  as  a 
negro  of  uncommon  worth  and  intelligence.     He  is " 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  Dawsey,  who  exclaimed,  in  a 
hurried  manner : 

"  I  came  here  expecting  this  sale  would  be  conducted 
according  to  custom — that  each  hand  would  be  put  up  sepa- 
rately.    I  protest  against  this  innovation,  Mr.  Auctioneer." 

The  auctioneer  made  no  reply ;  but  the  administrator,  a 
small,  self-possessed  man,  mounted  the  bench,  and  said : 

"  Sir,  I  regulate  this  sale.  If  you  are  not  satisfied  with 
its  conditions,  you  are  not  obliged  to  bid." 

Dawsey  made  a  passionate  reply.  In  the  midst  of  it,  Joe 
sprang  upon  the  stand,  and,  in  a  clear,  determined  voice,  called 
out: 

u  Mr.  Sheriff,  do  your  duty." 

A  large,  powerful  man,  in  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons, 
stepped  to  the  side  of  the  carriage,  and,  coolly  opening  the 
door,  said  : 

"  Catherine  Dawsey,  you  are  charged  with  aiding  and 
abetting  in  the  murder  of  Phyllis  Preston.  I  arrest  you. 
Please  come  with  me." 

u  By ,  sir  !  "  cried  Dawsey  ;   "  this  lady  is  my  wife  !  " 

"  It  makes  no  difference  whose  wife  she  is,  sir.  She  is  my 
prisoner." 


264  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  She  must  not  be  touched  by  you,  or  any  other  man ! w 
yelled  Dawsey,  drawing  his  pistol.  Before  he  could  fire,  he 
rolled  on  to  the  ground,  insensible.  The  sheriff  had  struck 
him  a  quick  blow  on  the  head  with  a  heavy  cane. 

As  her  husband  fell,  Mrs.  Dawsey  sprang  upon  the  driver's 
seat,  and,  seizing  the  reins  from  the  astonished  negro,  applied 
the  lash  to  the  horses.  They  reared,  and  started.  The  panic- 
stricken  crowd  parted,  like  waves  in  a  storm,  and  the  spirited 
animals  bounded  swiftly  down  the  avenue.  They  had  nearly 
reached  the  cluster  of  liveoaks  which  borders  the  small  lake, 
when  a  man  sprang  at  their  heads.  He  missed  them,  fell,  and 
the  carriage  passed  over  him ;  but  the  horses  shied  from  the 
road  into  the  trees,  and  in  an  instant  the  splendid  vehicle  was 
a  mass  of  fragments,  and  Mrs.  Preston  and  the  negro  were 
sprawling  on  the  ground.  The  lady  was  taken  up  senseless, 
and  badly  hurt,  but  breathing.     The  driver  was. dead  ! 

The  crowd  hurried  across  the  green  to  the  scene  of  dis- 
aster. Joe  and  I  reached  the  man  in  the  road  at  the  same 
instant.  It  was  Ally  !  "We  took  him  up,  bore  him  to  the 
edge  of  the  pond,  and  bathed  his  forehead  with  water.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Are  you  much  hurt,  Ally  ? "  asked  Joe,  with  almost 
breathless  eagerness. 

u  I  reckon  not,  massa  Joe,"  said  Ally ;  "  my  head,  yere, 
am  sore,  an'  dis  ankle  p'raps  am  broke.  Leff  me  see  ;  "  and  he 
rose  to  his  feet,  and  tried  his  leg.  "  No,  massa  Joe ;  it'm 
sound's  a  pine  knot.     I  hain't  done  fur  dis  time." 

"  Thank  God  ! "  exclaimed  Joe,  with  an  indescribable  ex- 
pression of  relief. 

Mrs.  Dawsey  was  borne  to  the  mansion,  the  negro  carried 


THE     NEGRO     SALE.  2G5 

off  to  the  quarter?,  and,  in  a  few  moments,  the  crowd  once 
more  gathered  around  the  auctioneer's  stand.  Dawsey,  by 
this  time  recovered"  from  the  sheriff's  blow,  was  cursing  and 
swearing  terribly  over  the  disaster  to  his  wife  and — his  prop- 
erty. 

"  Twenty-five  hundred  dollars  gone  at  a  blow  !  D — n  the 
woman  ;  didn't  she  know  better  than  that  ?  " 

As  he  followed  his  wife  into  the  house,  the  sheriff  said  to 
the  administrator,  who  was  a  justice  of  the  peace  : 

"  Make  me  out  a  warrant  for  that  man — obstructing  the 
execution  of  the  law." 

The  warrant  was  soon  made  out,  and  in  fifteen  minutes, 
Dawsey,  raving  like  a  wild  animal,  was  driven  off  to  jail 
at  Trenton.  Mrs.  Preston,  too  much  injured  to  be  moved,  was 
left  under  guard  at  the  mansion,  and  the  sale  proceeded. 

Boss  Joe  and  Aggy  ascended  the  block,  and  "  Master 
Joe  "  took  a  stand  beside  them. 

"  How  much  is  said  for  these  prime  negroes  ?  "  cried  the 
auctioneer.  "  Everybody  knows  what  they  are,  and  there's  no 
use  preaching  a  sermon  over  them.  Boss  Joe  might  do  that, 
but  /  can't.  He  can  preach  equal  to  any  white  man  you  ever 
hard.  Come,  gentlemen,  start  a  bid.  How  much  do  you 
say  ?  " 

11  A  thousand,"  said  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

■  Eleven  hundred,"  cried  another. 

"  It's  a  d — d  shame  to  bid  on  them,  gentlemen.  Boss  Joe 
has  been  saving  money  to  buy  himself;  and  I  think  no  white 
man  should  bid  against  him,"  cried  a  man  at  my  elbow. 

It  was  Gaston,  who  had  just  arrived  on  the  ground. 

"Thet's  a  fact."  "Them's  my  sentiments.*  "  D— n  th' 
12 


266  MY     SOU THE EX     FRIENDS. 

man  thet'll  bid  agin  a  nigger."  "  Thet's  so,  Gaston,"  echoed 
from  all  directions. 

"  But  I  yere  th'  darky's  got  a  pile — some  two  thousan' ; 
thet  gwoes  'long  with  him,  uv  course,"  yelled  one  of  the 
crowd. 

"  Of  course  it  don't  1 "  said  young  Joe,  from  the  stand. 
"  He's  saved  about  three  thousand  out  of  a  commission  his 
master  allowed  him ;  but  he  gave  that  to  me,  long  before  my 
father  died.  It  is  mine — not  his.  I  bid  twelve  hundred  for 
him  and  his  wife  ;  and  I  will  say  to  the  audience,  that  I  shall 
advance  on  whatever  sum  may  be  offered  for  them.  So  fire 
away,  gentlemen  ;  I  ask  no  favors." 

"  Is  there  any  more  bid  for  this  excellent  couple  ?  "  cried 
the  auctioneer.  "It  is  my  duty  to  cry  them,  and  to  tell  you 
they're  worth  twice  that  money." 

There  was  no  more  bid,  and  Boss  Joe  and  Aggy  were 
struck  down  at  twelve  hundred  dollars — about  two  thirds  their 
market  value. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  we  will  offer  you  the  old  negress,  Deb- 
orah, the  mother  of  Joe.  Bring  her  forward  !  "  cried  the  man 
of  the  hammer. 

Four- strong  negroes  lifted  the  chair  of  the  aged  African, 
and  bore  her  to  the  block.  When  the  strange  vehicle  reached 
the  steps,  young  Preston  steadied  it  into  its  appropriate  po- 
sition, and  then  took  a  stand  beside  it. 

"  This  aged  lady,  gentlemen,  is  warranted  over  eighty  ;  she 
may  be  a  hundred.  She  can't  walk,  but  she  can  pray  and  sing 
to  kill.  How  much  is  bid  for  all  this  piety  done  up  in  black 
crape  ?  "  cried  the  auctioneer,  smiling  complacently,  as  if  con- 
scious of  saying  a  witty  thing. 


THE     NEGRO     SALE.  267 

Joe  turned  on  him  quickly.  "  Sir,  you  are  employed  to 
sell  these  people,  not  to  sport  with  their  feelings.  Let  me 
hear  no  more  of  this." 

"  No  offence,  Mr.  Preston.  Gentlemen,  how  much  is  bid 
for  old  Deborah  ?  " 

11  Five  dollars,"  said  young  Preston. 

The  old  negress,  who  sat  nearly  double,  straightened  up 
her  bent  form,  and,  looking  at  Joe  with  a  sad,  pleading  expres- 
sion, exclaimed: 

"  Oh,  massa  Joe !  ole  nussy  'm  wuth  more'n  dat.  'Ou 
woan't  lclT  liar  be  sole  fur  no  sech  money  as  dat,  will  'ou, 
massa  Joe  ?  " 

"  No,  aunty  ;  not  if  you  want  to  bring  more.  I'd  give 
your  weight  in  gold  for  you  ; "  and,  turning  to  the  auctioneer, 
he  said  :   "  A  hundred  dollars  is  my  bid,  sir." 

"  Bress  'ou,  massa  Joe !  bress  'ou !  'Ou'm  my  own 
dear,  Dressed  chile  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  negress,  clutching  at 
his  hand,  and,  with  a  sudden  effort,  rising  to  her  feet.  She 
stood  thus  for  a  moment,  then  she  staggered  back,  fell  into  her 
chair,  uttered  a  low  moan,  and — was  free  ! 

A  wild  excitement  followed,  during  which  the  body  was 
borne  off.  It  was  a  full  half  hour  before  quiet  was  restored 
and  the  sale  resumed.  Then  about  twenty  negroes,  of  both 
sexes,  were  put  up  singly.  All  of  them  were  bought  by  Joe, 
except  a  young  woman,  whose  husband  belonged  to  Gaston. 
The  bidding  on  her  was  spirited,  and  she  was  run  up  to  ten 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  As  Gaston  bid  that  sum,  he  jumped 
upon  a  bench,  and  called  out : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  can  stand  this  as  long  as  you  can.  I  mean 
to  have  this  woman,  anyhow." 


268  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Xo  one  offered  more,  and  "  the  lot "  was  struck  off  to  Gas- 
ton.    Joe  did  not  bid  on  her^at  all. 

When  the  next  negro  ascended  the  stand,  Joe  beckoned  to 
me,  and  said : 

"  Selly  is  next  on  the  catalogue.  Will  you  bring  her 
here  ?  " 

As  I  entered  the  mansion,  she  met  me.  Her  face  was 
pale,  and  there  was  a  nervous  twitching  about  her  mouth, 
but  she  quietly  said  : 

"  You  have  come  for  me?" 

"  Yes,  my  child.     Have  courage  ;  it  will  soon  be  over." 

She  laid  her  head  upon  my  shoulder  for  a  moment ;  then, 
turning  her  large,  clear,  but  tearless  eyes  up  to  mine,  she  said : 

"  I  trust  in  God  !  " 

I  took  her  arm  in  mine,  and  walked  out  to  the  stand.  The 
auctioneer  was  waiting  for  her,  and  we  ascended  the  block 
together.  A  slight  tremor  passed  over  her  frame  as  she  met 
the  sea  of  upturned  faces,  all  eagerly  gazing  at  her ;  and,  put- 
ting my  arm  about  her,  I  whispered  : 

"  Do  not  fear.     Lean  on  me." 

II  I  do  not  fear,"  was  the  low  reply. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  cried  the  auctioneer,  in  an  unfeeling, 
business-like  way,  "  I  offer  you  the  girl,  Lucy  Selma.  She  is 
seventeen  years  old  ;  in  good  health ;  well  brought  up — a  supe- 
rior lot  every  way.  She  has  recently  been  employed  at  cook- 
ing, but,  as  you  see,  is  better  adapted  to  lighter  work.  How 
much  shall  I  have  for  her  ?  Come,  bid  fast,  gentlemen ;  we 
are  taking  up  too  much  time." 

Before  any  response  could  be  made  to  this  appeal,  Joe 
stepped  to  the  side  of  Selma,  and,  in  a  slow,  deliberate  voice, 
said : 


THE     NEGRO     SALE.  2C9 

"  Gentlemen,  allow  me  a  few  words.  This  young  lady  ia 
my  sister.  1  bave  always  supposed — she  has  always  sap] 
that  she  was  the  legitimate  child  of  my  father.  She  was  not. 
My  mother  bought  her  when  she  wa3  very  young ;  gave  her 
jewels — all  she  had — for  her,  and  adopted  her  as  her  own 
child.  The  law  does  not  allow  a  married  woman  to  hold  sepa- 
rate property,  and  Selma  is  therefore  inventoried  in  my  father's 
estate,  and  must  be  sold.  Rightfully,  she  belongs  to  me  ! 
She  has  been  delicately  and  tenderly  reared,  and  is  totally  un- 
fitted for  any  of  the  usual  work  of  slave  women.  Her  value 
for  such  purposes  is  very  little.  I  shall  bid  a  thousand  dollars 
for  her, -which  is  more  than  she  is  worth  for  any  honest  use. 
If  any  man  bids  more,  it  is  his  life  or  mine  before  he 
haves  the  ground  !  " 

A  breathless  silence  fell  on  the  assemblage.  It  lasted  for  a 
few  moments,  when  Gaston  called  out : 

"Come,  Joe,  this  isn't  fair.  You've  no  right  to  interfere 
with  the  sale.  I  came  here  prepared  to  go  twenty-five  hun- 
dred for  her  myself." 

In  a  firm  but  moderate  tone,  the  young  man  replied : 

11 1  intend  no  disrespect  to  you,  Mr.  Gaston,  or  to  any  gen- 
tleman present ;  but  I  mean  what  I  say.  I  shall  stand  by  my 
words  !  " 

"  Come,  youngster,  none  uv  yer  browbeatin1  yere.  It 
woan't  gwo  down,"  cried  a  rough  voice  from  among  the  audi- 
ence. "  I've  come  all  th'  way  from  Orleans  ter  buy  thet  gal ; 
an'  buy  har  I  shill !  " 

Quite  a  commotion  followed  this  speech.  It  lasted  some 
minutes,  and  the  speaker  was  the  object  of  considerable  atten- 
tion. 


270  MY     SOUTH  ERN     Fill  ENDS. 

"  He's  some  on  th'  trigger,  ole  feller,"  cried  one.  "  He 
kin  hit  a  turkey's  eye  at  two  hundred  paces,  he  kin,"  said  an- 
other. "He'll  burn  yer  in'ards,  shore,"  shouted  a  third. 
"  Ye'll  speak  fur  warm  lodgin's,  ef  ye  bid  on  thet  gal,  ye 
wull,"  cried  a  fourth. 

"  Come,  my  friends,  ye  karn't  skeer  me,"  coolly  said  the 
first  speaker,  mounting  one  of  the  rough  benches.  "  I've  h'ard 
sech  talk  afore.  It  doan't  turn  me  a  hair.  I  come  yere  ter 
buy  thet  gal,  an'  buy  har  I  shill,  'cept  some  on  ye  kin  gwo 
higher'n  my  pile  ;    an'  my  pile  ar  eighty-two  hundred  dollars  !  " 

He  was  a  tall,  stoutly-built  man,  with  bushy  gray  whiskers 
and  a  clear,  resolute  eye.     It  was  Larkin  ! 

Turning  to  Joe,  I  exclaimed  : 
•    "  I  understand  this.     Get  the  auctioneer  to  postpone  the 
sale  for  half  an  hour.     Take  Selly  into  the  house." 

u  No.  It  might  as  well  be  over  first  as  last.  Let  him 
bid — he's  a  dead  man  !  "  replied  Joe,  coolly,  but  firmly. 

"You're  mad,  boy.  Would  you  take  his  life  need- 
lessly ?  " 

The  auctioneer,  who  overheard  these  remarks,  then  said  to 
me  : 

"  I  will  adjourn  the  sale,  sir ; "  and,  turning  to  the  audi- 
ence, he  cried,  drawing  out  his  watch :  "  Gentlemen,  it  is 
twelve  o'clock.  The  sale  is  adjourned  for  an  hour,  to  give  you 
a  chance  for  dinner." 

Joe  led  Selma  away,  and,  springing  from  the  block,  I 
pressed  through  the  crowd  to  where  Larkin  was  standing. 

"Larkin,"  I  said,  placing  my  hand  on  his  arm,  "come 
with  me." 

11  Who  in  h —  ar  ye  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  on  me  rather 
roughly. 


THE     NEGRO     SALE.  2*71 

"  My  name  is  Kirke.     You  ought  to  know  me." 

"  Kirke  !  Why,  ye  ar  !  I'm  right  down  glad  ter  see  ye, 
Mr.  Kirke,"  he  exclaimed,  seizing  me  warmly  by  the  hand. 

11  Come  with  me  ;  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

He  sprang  from  the  bench,  and  followed  me  into  the  man- 
sion. 

Entering  the  library,  I  locked  the  door.  When  he  was 
seated,  I  said  : 

"  Now,  Larkin,  who  do  you  want  this  girl  for  ?  " 

"  Wall,  I  swar !  Mr.  Kirke,  ye  fire  right  at  th'  bull's  eye !  " 
Then,  hesitating  a  moment,  he  added  : 

"  Fur  myself." 

"  No,  you  don't ;  you  know  that  isn't  true." 

11  Ha  !  ha  !  This  ar  th'  second  time  ye've  told  me  I  lied. 
Nary  other  man  ever  done  it  twice,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  but  I  karn't 
take  no  'fence  with  ye,  nohow — ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Come,  Larkin,  don't  waste  time.  Tell  me  squarely — 
u-ho  do  you  want  this  girl  for  ?  " 

u  Wall,  Mr.  Kirke,  I  can't  answer  thet — not  in  honor." 

"  Shall  /  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Yas,  ef  ye  kin  !  " 

"  John  Hallet." 

"  Wall,  I'm  d — d  ef  ye  doan't  take  th'  papers.  Who  in 
creashun  told  ye  thet  ?  " 

u  No  one  ;  I  know  it.  Hallet's  only  son  is  engaged  to  this 
girl.     He  wants  her,  to  balk  him." 

"  Ye're  wrong  thar.     He  wants  har  fur  himself" 

"  For  himself!" 

"  V  got  a  couple  now.     He's  a  sly  old  fox  ;  but 

he's  one  on  'em." 


272  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"Is  he  willing  to  pay  eighty -two  hundred  dollars  for  a  mis- 
tress ?  " 

*•  "Wall,  Preston  owes  him  a  debt,  an'  he  reckons  'tain't 
wutk  a  hill  o'  beans.     Thet's  th'  amount  uv  it." 

Thus  the  wrong  of  the  father  was  to  be  atoned  for  by 
the  dishonor  of  the  child  !  Preston  was  right :  the  curse 
which  followed  his  sin  had  fallen  on  all  he  loved — on  Lis  wife, 
his  mistress,  the  octoroon  girl,  his  manly,  noble  son ;  and 
now,  the  cloud  which  held  the  thunderbolt  was  hovering  over 
the  head  of  his  best-loved  child  !  And  so  He  visiteth  "  the 
sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children  !  " 

11  But  he  is  wrong !  Preston's  estate  will  pay  its  debts. 
If  it  does  not,  Joe  will  make  good  the  deficiency.  I  will 
guarantee  Hallet's  claim.     See  him,  and  tell  hiin  so." 

"  He  hain't  yere,  an'  woan't  be  yere.  He  allers  fights  shy. 
An'  'twouldn't  be  uv  no  use.  He's  made  up  his  mind  to  hev 
th'  gal,  an'  hev  har  he  will.  He's  come  all  th'  way  from 
Orleans  ter  make  shore  uv  it." 

"  But,  Larkin,  you've  a  heart  under  your  waistcoat ;  you 
won't  lend  yourself  to  the  designs  of  such  a  consummate 
scoundrel  as  Ilallet !  " 

"  Scoundrel's  a  hard  word,  Mr.  Kirke.  'Tain't  used  much 
round  yere  ;  when  it  ar,  it  draws  blood  like  a  lancet." 

"  I  mean  no  offence  to  you,  Larkin ;  but  it's  true — I  will 
prove  it ; "  and  I  went  on  to  detail  my  early  acquaintance  with 
Hallet ;  his  vast  profession  and  small  performance  of  piety ; 
his  betrayal  of  Frank's  mother ;  his  treatment  of  his  son,  and 
all  the  damning  record  I  have  spread  before  the  reader. 

As  I  talked,  Larkin  rose,  and  walked  the  room,  evidently 
affected ;  but,  when  I  concluded,  he  said  : 


THE     NEGEO     SALE.  273 

"'Tain't  no  use,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  I'd  ruther  ye  wouldn't  say  no 
more.  It  makes  me  feel  like  the  cholera.  An'  'tain't  no  use  ! 
I've  got  ter  buy  th'  gal." 

u  You  have  not  got  to  buy  her  !  You  need  only  go  away. 
I  will  give  you  a  thousand  dollars,  if  you  will  go  at  once." 

"  No,  no,  Mr.  Kirke ;  I  karn't  do  it.  I'd  like  ter  'blige 
ye,  and  I  need  money  like  th'  devil ;  but  I  karn't  leave 
Hallet  in  th'  lurch.  'Twouldn't  be  far  dealin'  'tween  man 
an'  man.  He  trusts  me  ter  do  it,  an'  I'm  in  with  him.  I 
7nust  act  honest." 
•     "  How  in  with  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  an'  ole  Rove  ar  tergether.  The'  find  th' 
money  fur  my  bis'ness — done  it  fur  fifteen  yar.  The'  git  th' 
biggest  sheer,  but  I  karn't  holp  myself.  I  went  inter  cotton, 
like  a  d — d  fool,  'bout  a  yar  ago,  an'  lost  all  I  hed — every  red 
cent ;  an'  now  I  shud  be  on  my  beam  ends  ef  it  warn't  fur 
them." 

"  Then  Hallet  has  made  his  money  dealing  in  negroes  !  " 

"  Yas,  a  right  smart  pile,  in  thet,  an'  cotton.  He  got  me 
inter  th'  d — d  staple.  I  hed  nigh  on  ter  sixty  thousan'  then 
— hard  rocks ;  but  I  lost  it  all — every  dollar — at  one  slap ; 
though  I  reckon  he  managed,  somehow,  ter  git  out." 

"  Yes,  of  course  he  got  out,  and  saddled  the  loss  upon  you. 
"Were  you  such  a  fool  as  not  to  see  that  ?  " 

u  P'raps  he  did  ;  but  he  covered  his  trail.  He's  smart ;  ye 
karn't  track  him.  But  it  makes  no  odds ;  I  hev  ter  keep  in 
with  him.     I  couldn't  do  a  thing,  ef  I  didn't." 

"  Yes,  you  could.  Come  North.  I'll  give  you  honest 
work  to  do." 

"  You're  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Kirke,  an'  I'm  'bliged  ter  ye ; 
12* 


274  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

but  I  krrn't  leave  yere.  I've  got  a  wife  an'  chil'ren,  an'  the' 
wouldn't  live  'mong  ye  abolitionists,  nohow." 

u  You  have  a  wife  and  children  ?  " 

M  Yas ;  a  wife,  an'  two  as  likely  young  'uns  as  ye  ever 
seed — boy  'bout  seven,  an'  gal  'bout  twelve." 

11  Well,  Larkin,  suppose  your  little  girl  was  upon  that 
auction  block  ;  suppose  some  villain  had  hired  me  to  aid  in 
debauching  her  ;  suppose  you,  her  father,  should  come  to  me 
and  plead  with  me  not  to  do  it ;  suppose  I  should  tell  you 
what  you  have  told  me,  and  then — should  go  out  and  buy  your 
child  ;  what  would  you  do  ?  Would  you  not  curse  me  with 
your  very  last  breath  ?  " 

He  seated  himself,  and  hung  down  his  head,  but  made  no 
reply. 

"  Answer  me,  like  the  honest  man  you  are." 

"  "Wall,  I  reckon  I  shud." 

11  Selraa  is  to  marry  my  adopted  son.  She  is  as  dear  to  me 
as  your  child  is  to  you.  Can  you  do  to  her,  what  you  would 
curse  me  for  doing  to  your  child  ?  Look  me  in  the  face. 
Don't  flinch — answer  me  !  " 

I  rose,  and  stood  before  him.  In  a  few  moments  he  also 
rose,  and,  looking  me  squarely  in  the  eye — there  was  a  tear  in 
his — he  brought  his  hand  down  upon  mine  with  a  concussion 
that  might  have  been  heard  a  mile  off,  and  said : 

"  No,  I'm  d— d  ter  h—  ef  I  kin." 

"  You  are  a  splendid,  noble  fellow,  Larkin." 

"  Ye're  'bout  th'  fust  man  thet  ever  said  so,  Mr.  Kirke. 
Ye  told  me  suthin'  like  thet  nigh  on  ter  twelve  yar  ago.  I 
hain't  forgot  it  yit,  an'  I  never  shill." 

"  You're  rough  on  the  outside,  Larkin,  but  sound  at  the 


THE     NEGEO     SALE.  275 

core — sound  as  a  nut.  I  wish  the  world  had  more  like  you. 
Leave  this  wretched  work  !  " 

"I'd  like  ter,  but  I  karn't.  What  kin  a  feller  do,  with 
neither  money  nor  friends  ?  " 

"  Get  into  some  honest  business.  I  know  you  can.  I'll 
help  you — Joe  will  help  you.  We'll  talk  things  over  to-night, 
and  I  know  Joe  will  rig  out  something  for  you." 

He  remained  seated  for  a  while,  saying  nothing ;  then  he 
rose,  and,  the  moisture  dimming  his  eyes,  said : 

u  I  reckon  ye're  not  over  pious,  Mr.  Kirke,  an'  I  know 
ye'd  stand  a  hand  at  a  rough  an'  tumble  ;  but  d — d  ef  thet 
hain't  th'  sort  o'  religion  I  like.  Come,  sir ;  ef  I  stay  yere, 
ye' 11  make  a  'ooman  on  me." 

As  we  passed  into  the  parlor,  I  said  to  Joe,  who  was 
seated  there  with  Selma : 

"  Give  Larkin  your  hand,  Joe  ;  he's  a  glorious  fellow." 

"  My  heart  is  in  it,  Larkin,"  said  the  young  man,  very 
cordially.  "It  would  have  come  hard  to  draw  a  bead  on 
you" 

"I  knows  it  would,  Joe,  an'  I  wus-ter  blame.;  but  I  never 
could  stand  a  bluff." 

We  passed  out  together  to  the  auction  stand.  Selma  and 
her  brother  ascended  the  block,  while  Larkin  and  I  mingled 
with  the  buyers,  who  had  collected  in  even  larger  numbers 
than  before,     The  auctioneer  brought  down  his  hammer : 

"  Attention,  gentlemen  !  The  sale  has  begun.  I  offer  you 
again  the  girl,  Lucy  Selma.  You've  h'ard  the  description, 
and  (glancing  at  Joe,  and  smiling)  you  know  the  conditions 
of  the  sale.  A  thousand  dollars  is  bid  for  the  girl,  Lucy 
Selma ;    do   I   hear  any  more  ? ,    Talk  quick,   gentlemen ;    I 


276  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

shan't  dwell  on  this  lot ;  so  speak  up,  if  you've  anything  to 
say.  One  thousand  once — one  thousand  twice — one  thousand 
third  and  last  call.  Do  I  hear  any  more  ?  "  A  pause  of  a 
moment.     "  Last  call,  gentlemen.     Going— g-o-i-n-g— go " 

The  word  was  unfinished ;  the  hammer  was  descending, 
when  a  voice  called  out : 

"  Two  thousand  !  " 

"  Whose  bid  is  that  ? "  cried  Joe,  striding  across  the 
bench,  the  glare  of  a  hyena  in  his  eyes. 

"  Mine,  sir !  "  said  the  man,  with  a  look  of  sudden  sur- 
prise. His  face  was  shaded  by  a  broad-brimmed  Panama  hat, 
and  his  hair  and  whiskers  were  dyed,  but  there  was  no  mis- 
taking his  large,  eagle  nose,  his  sharp,  pointed  chin,  and  his 
rat-trap  of  a  mouth.     It  was  Hallet ! 

Springing  upon  a  bench  near  by,  I  cried  out : 

"  John  Hallet,  withdraw  that  bid,  or  your  time  has  come  ! 
I  warn  you.     You  cannot  leave  this  place  alive  !  " 

He  gave  me  a  quick,  startled  look — the  look  of  a  thief 
caught  in  the  act — but  said  nothing. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"  A  Yankee  nigger-trader  !  A  man  that  seduced  and  mur- 
dered the  woman  who  should  have  been  his  wife  ;  that  cast 
out  and  starved  his  own  child,  and  now  would  debauch  this 
poor  girl,  who  is  to  marry  his  only  son  !  " 

"  Wall,  he  ar  a  han'some  critter."  "  'Bout  like  th' 
Yankees  gin'rally."      "  Clar  him  out !  "  cried  several  voices. 

"  If  you  allow  him  to  bid  here,  you  are  as  bad  as  he/'  I 
continued,  unintentionally  fanning  the  growing  excitement. 

"  Wall,  we  woan't."  "  Pitch  inter  him  !  "  "  Douse  lrim 
in  th'  pond  !  "      "  Ride  him  en  a  rail !  "      "  Give  him  a  coat 


THE     NEGRO     SALE.  4JT7 

uv  tar  !  "  and  a  hundred  similar  exclamations  rose  from  the 
crcfwd,  which  swayed  toward  the  obnoxious  man  with  a  quick, 
tumultuous  motion. 

11  He'm  in  de  darky  trade  ;  leff  de  darkies  handle  him  !  " 
cried  Ally,  seizing  Hallet  by  the  collar,  and  dragging  him 
toward  the  pond. 

The  face  of  the  great  merchant  turned  ghastly  pale. 
Paralyzed  with  fear,  he  made  no  resistance. 

Pressing  rapidly  through  the  crowd,  and  tossing  Ally  aside 
as  if  he  had  been  a  bundle  of  feathers,  Larkin  was  at  Hallet's 
side  in  an  instant.  Planting  himself  before  him,  and  drawing 
his  revolver,  he  cried  out : 

"  Far  play,  gintlemen,  far  play.  He's  a  cowardly  scoun- 
drel, but  he  shill  hev  far  play,  or  my  name  hain't  Jake 
Larkin  !  " 

Instinctively  the  crowd  fell  back  a  few  paces,  and  Larkin, 
with  more  coolness,  continued  : 

"  TV  only  man  yere  thet's  got  ary  thing  ter  say  in  this 
bis'ness  ar  Joe  Preston  ;  an'  he'll  guv  even  a  Yankee  far  play. 
Woan't  ye,  Joe  ? "  he  cried.  Then,  turning  quickly  to  his 
partner,  he  added :  "  Ye  didn't  know  tli'  kunditions,  Mr. 
Hallet,  did  ye  ?     Speak  quick." 

"No — I — didn't  know  I  was — giving. ojjence,"  stammered 
Hallet,  looking  in  the  direction  in  which  Larkin's  eyes  were 
turned. 

Selma  had  taken  the  auctioneer's  chair,  and  Joe  stood,  with 
folded  arms,  glaring  on  Hallet. 

"Come,  Joe,"  continued  Larkin,  "I've  done  ye  a  good 
turn  ter-day.     Let  him  off,  an'  put  it  ter  my  'count." 

"  As  you  say,  Larkin  ;  but  he  must  withdraw  his  bid,  and 
leave  the  ground  at  once." 


278  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIEXDS. 

"I  withdraw  it,  sir,"  said  Hallet,  in  a  cringing  tone,  cling- 
ing fast  to  the  negro  trader. 

"  Doan't  hold  on  so  tight,  Mr.  Hallet.  Lord  bless  ye ! 
nary  one  yere'll  hurt  ye;  they'm  gentler'n  lambs — ha!  ha! 
But  when  ye  want  anuther  gal,  doan't  ye  come  yere  fur  yer 
darter-in-law — ha  !  ha !  " 

Putting  his  arm  within  Hallet's,  he  then  attempted  to  press 
through  the  crowd ;  but  the  blood  of  the  chivalry  had  risen, 
and,  spite  of  Joe's  remarks,  they  showed  no  inclination  to  let 
the  Yankee  off  so  cheaply.  Forming  a  solid  wall  around  him, 
they  blocked  Larkin's  way  at  every  turn,  and  cries  of  "  Let 
him  alone,  Larkin  !  "  "  Cool  him  off,  boys  !  "  "  Doan't  ye 
spile  th'  fun,  Larkin  !  "  "  Guv  th'  feller  a  little  hosspitaplity  !  " 
echoed  from  all  directions. 

Putting  up  his  revolver,  Larkin  turned  to  them,  and  said, 
in  the  mildest  and  blandest  tone  conceivable : 

"  Thet's  right,  boys — ye  orter  hev  some  fun  ;  but  this  gin- 
tleman's  sick.  Doan't  ye  see  how  pale  he  ar  ?  He  couldn't 
stand  it,  nohow.  But  thar's  a  feller  thet  kin,"  pointing  to 
Mulock,  who  stood  looking  on,  at  the  outer  edge  of  the  crowd. 
"  Ef  ye're  spilin'  fur  sport,  ye  moight  try  yer  hand  on  him  !  " 

"  Yas,  he'm  de  man  !  "  cried  Ally.  "  He  holped  whip  de 
young  missus.  He  telled  on  har  fur  twenty  dollar.  He'm  de 
man ! " 

Mulock  did  not  seem  to  realize,  at  once,  that  he  was  the 
subject  of  these  remarks.  The  moment  he  did,  he  sprang  out 
of  the  crowd,  and  darted  off  for  the  woods  at  the  top  of  his 
speed.  A  hundred  men  followed  him,  with  cries  of  "  Mount, 
head  him  off!  "  "  Five  dollars  ter  th'  man  thet  kotches  him  I  " 
"  Take  him,  dead  or  alive  !  " 


TIIE     NEGRO     SALE.  279 

Amid  the  universal  excitement  and  confusion  that  fol- 
lowed, Lurkin  walked  rapidly  away  with  Hallet. 

"You  can  heat  the  kettle,  boys;  Mulock.  can't  run,"  cried 
Joe,  from  the  platform.  "But  you  must  give  him  a  fair 
trial." 

"  "We'll  do  thet,  never  ye  fear  !  "  echoed  a  dozen  voices. 

"  I  nominate  his  friend,  Mr.  Gaston,  for  judge,"  said  Joe. 

"  Gaston  it  is  !  Gaston  it  is  !  "  "  Mount  the  bench,  Mr. 
Gaston  !  "  shouted  a  hundred  "  natives." 

Gaston  got  upon  the  auction  stand,  and  said : 

"  I'll  serve,  gentlemen ;  but,  before  we  select  jurors,  the 
sale  must  go  on.     Miss  Preston  is  not  sold  yet." 

"  All  right !  all  right !  Hurry  up,  Mr.  Hammerman  !  " 
shouted  the  crowd. 

The  auctioneer  took  his  place  : 

"  A  thousand  dollars  is  bid  for  this  young  lady.  Going — 
going — gone,  to  Mr.  Joseph  Preston. 

Selma  put  her  arms  about  Joe's  neck,  and,  in  broken  tones, 
said  :  "  My  brother  !  my  dear  brother  !  "  Then  she  laid  her 
head  on  his  shoulder,  and  wept — wept  unrestrainedly. 

"Who  can  fathom  the  untold  misery  she  had  endured  within 
those  two  hours  I 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 


THE    LYNCHING. 


The  impromptu  judge  took  his  seat  on  the  bench,  and 
the  excited  multitude  once  more  subsided  into  quiet.  In 
about  fifteen  minutes  a  tumult  arose  in  a  remote  quarter  of 
the  ground,  and  Mulock  and  Ids  pursuers  appeared  in  sight, 
shouting,  screaming,  and  swearing  in  a  decidedly  boisterous 
manner.  The  most  of  the  profanity — to  the  credit  of  the  self- 
appointed  posse  comitatus  be  it  said — was  indulged  in  by  the 
ex-overseer,  who,  with  his  clothes  torn  in  shreds,  and  his  face 
covered  with  blood,  looked  like  the  battered  relic  of  a  forty 
years'  war.  A  red  bandanna  pinioned  his  arms  to  his  sides, 
and  a  strong  man  at  each  elbow  spurred  his  flagging  footsteps 
by  an  occasional  poke  with  a  pine  branch.  Ally  followed  at  a 
few  paces,  looking  about  as  dilapidated  as  the  culprit  himself. 
To  him  evidently  belonged  the  glory  of  the  capture. 

As  they  approached  the  stand,  Gaston  rose,  and  called  out : 

"  Do  not  insult  justice,  by  bringing  the  prisoner  into  court 
in  this  condition.  Let  his  face  be  washed,  his  garments 
changed,  and  his  wounds  bound  up,  before  he  appears  for  trial. 
Dr.  Rawson,  I  commission  you  special  officer  for  the  duty." 

"  I'm  at  your  service,  Major  Gaston,"  said  the  doctor,  step- 
ping out  from  the  crowd  into  the  Open  semicircle  in  front  of 


THE     LYNCHING.  281 

the  bench.     «  Will  some  one  procure  the  loan  of  a  coat,  hat, 
and  trousers  at  the  mansion  ?  " 

Ally   started   for   the  needed   clothing,  and   the  physician 
led  the  way  to  the  small  lake.     In  about  twenty  minutes  the 
volunteer  officials  returned  with  the  criminal,  clothed  in  a  more 
respectable  manner,  and  Gaston  said  to  him : 
"  Prisoner,  take  your  place." 

Resistance  was  useless,  and  Mulock,  with  a  slow  step,  and 
a  sullen,  dogged  air,  ascended  the  platform,  and  seated  himself 
in  the  chair  provided  for  him  at  its  further  extremity.     Gaston 
sat  at  the  other  end,  facing  him;  and  four  brawny  -natives," 
with  revolvers  in  their  hands,  took  positions  by  his  side. 
"  Silence  in  the  court !  "  cried  Gaston. 
The   noisy  multitude   became    quiet,    and    the    extempore 
official  proceeded— with  greater  solemnity  than  many  another 
judge  of  more  regular  appointment  exhibits  on  similar  occa- 
sions — to  say  : 

"Prisoner,    you   are   charged   with    two   of    the    highest 
offences  known  to  our  laws;  namely,  with  aiding  and  abetting 
an  illegal  and  cruel  assault  on  a  white  woman,  and  with  pro! 
curing  and  inciting  the  murder  of  your  own  wife.     You  are 
about  to  be  tried  for-these  crimes  by  a  jury  of  your  country- 
men ;  and  I  am  appointed  judge,  that  full  and  impartial  justice 
may  be  done  you.  ^  It  shall  be  done.     Counsel  will  be  awarded 
you;   and,   that   you  may  not   be  condemned   by  prejudiced 
men,  you  will  be  given  the  privilege  of  peremptory  challenge 
against  four  out  of  every  five  of  the  jurors  I  shall  nominate. 
I  shall  now  proceed  to  name  the  jury,  and  you  will  signify 
your  objection  to  those  you  do  not  approve.     Thomas  Mur- 
chison." 


282  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

That  gentleman  came  forward,  and  Mulock  said : 

"  I  take  him." 

"  Godfrey  Banks." 

"  He's  inimy  ter  me." 

The  man  stepped  aside ;  and  thus  they  proceeded,  the 
prisoner  taking  full  advantage  of  the  liberty  of  choice  allowed 
him,  until,  out  of  a  panel  of  nearly  sixty,  twelve  respectable, 
yeomanly-looking  men  had  been  selected.  As  each  juror  was 
approved  of  by  the  crowd  (who  had  the  final  decision),  he 
took  a  seat  on  a  row  of  benches  facing  the  "judge"  and  the 
prisoner.  "When  the  last  one  had  taken  his  place,  Gaston 
said : 

u  Prisoner,  you  have  heard  the  charges  against  you ;  are 
you  guilty,  or  not  guilty  ?  If  you  think  proper  to  ac- 
knowledge your  guilt  of  either  or  both  the  crimes  with 
which  you  are  charged,  I  shall  feel  it  my  duty  to  award  you  a 
lighter  punishment." 

"  I  hain't  guilty  uv  'ary  one  on  'em,"  said  Mulock,  without 
looking  up. 

"  "What  legal  gentleman  will  appear  for  the  people  ? " 
cried  Gaston,  turning  to  the  audience.  Several  sprigs  of  the 
law  shot  out  from  the  multitude.  "I  accept  you,  Mr.  Flan- 
ders.    Who  will  act  for  the  prisoner  ?  " 

Each  one  of  the  volunteers  foil  back,  and  no  response 
came  from  any  part  of  the  ground.  Mulock  evidently  was 
neither  blessed  nor  cursed  with  many  friends. 

"  Does  no  one  appear  for  the  prisoner  ?  Gentlemen  of  the 
legal  profession,  I  am  sorry  to  see  this  reluctance  to  aid  a 
defenceless  man.  Will  not  some  one  oblige  me,  by  volunteer- 
ing ?     I  shall  consider  it  a  personal  service,"  said  Gaston. 


THE     LYNCHING.  283 

Still  no  response  was  heard.  At  least  five  minutes  passed, 
and  the  "judge's"  face  was  assuming  a  look  of  painful  con- 
cern, when  Larkin  approached  the  bench. 

"Gintlernen,"  he  said,  "  th'  man  hain't  no  friends,  an'  it's 
a  d— d  shame  not  ter  come  out  fur  a  feller  as  stands  alone. 
Ef  I  knowed  lor,  I'd  go  in  fur  him,*bf  he  wus  th'  devil  him- 
self." 

N  o  one  came  forward  in  answer  to  even  this  appeal ;  and, 
turning  on  the  crowd,  while  warm,  manly  scorn  glowed  on  his 
every  feature,  the  negro-trader  cried  out : 

"  Ye're  a  set  uv  d — d  sneakin'  hounds,  every  one  on  ye. 
Ye're  wuss  than  th'  parsons,  an'  the'  hain't  fit  ter  tote  vittles 
ter  a  bar."  Turning  to  the  "judge,"  he  added,  in  a  more 
respectful  tone:  "I  doan't  know  th'  fust  thing  'bout  lor, 
Major  Gaston,  an'  this  man's  nigh  as  mean  a  cuss  as  th'  Lord 
ever  made ;  but  ef  ye'll  'cept  me,  I'll  go  in  fur  him  !  " 

"  I  will  accept  you,  with  pleasure.  You're  doing  a  gentle- 
manly thing,  Mr.  Larkin." 

A  murmur  of  applause  went  round  the  assemblage,  as  Lar- 
kin and  the  other  counsel  took  seats  near  the  jury. 
The  "judge  "  then  rose,  and  said  : 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury  :  You  have  engaged  in  a  solemn 
office.  You  are  about  to  try  a  fellow  being  for  his  life.  It  is 
a  painful  duly,  but  it  is  an  obligation  you  owe  to  the  commu- 
nity,  and  to  yourselves,  and  you  will  not  shrink  from  it. 
Society  is  held  together  by  laws  made  to  protect  the  innocent 
and  punish  the  guilty.  But,  as  our  society  is  organized,  there 
are  some  offences  which  our  tribunals  cannot  reach.  In  such 
cases  the  people,  from  whom  all  laws  proceed,  have  a  right  to 
take  the  law  into  their  own  hands. 


284  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  The  prisoner  is  charged  with  crimes  which,  from  the  cir- 
cumstances surrounding  their  commission,  cannot  be  reached 
by  regular  courts  of  justice.  They  were  witnessed  by  none 
but  blacks,  whose  testimony,  by  our  statutes,  is  not  admissible. 
We,  the  people,  therefore,  are  to  try  him  ;,  and,  to  get  at  the 
facts,  we  shall  receive  *the  evidence  of  negroes.  You  will 
judge  for  yourselves  as  to  its  credibility.  If  any  doubt  of 
the  prisoner's  guilt  rests  in  your  minds,  you  will  give  him  the 
benefit  of  it,  and  acquit  him ;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  you  are 
fully  persuaded  that  he  committed  either  or  both  the  crimes  of 
which  he  is  accused,  you  will  convict  him.  You  will  patiently 
hear  the  testimony  that  may  be  presented  ;  /  will  honestly 
and  impartially  give  sentence,  according  to  the  decision  at 
which  you  may  arrive.     The  trial  will  now  proceed." 

The  witnesses  were  then  examined.  Ally  was  the  first 
one  sworn.  He  deposed  to  the  circumstances  attending  the 
whipping  of  Phyllis,  and  the  assault  on  Selma ;  but,  as  his 
evidence  was  altogether  hearsay — he  not  being  present  on 
either  occasion — it  was  ruled  out,  as  was  also  his  account  of 
the  bribing  of  Mulock  by  the  mistress. 

Three  other  negroes  were  then  called,  and  they  proved  that 
Mulock  aided  in  dragging  Selma  to  the  whipping  rack,  and 
witnessed  the  beating;  but  they  failed  to  show  that  he  was 
privy  to  or  participated  in  the  assault  on  his  wife.  Others 
were  examined,  who  saw  parts  of  the  two  transactions,  and 
then  the  testimony  closed. 

As  the  last  witness  left  the  stand,  Gaston  said  : 

"  I  shall  allow  the  prisoner  the  benefit  of  the  final  appeal. 
The  attorney  for  the  people  will  now  address  the  jury." 

The  lawyer,   a  young   man  of   no  especial   brilliancy  or 


THE     LYNCHING.  285 

ability,  rose,  and,  going  rapidly  over  the  testimony,  drew  the 
conclusion  from  it  that  Mulock  had  instigated  the  beating  of 
both  mother  and  daughter,  and  was  therefore  guilty  of  the 
assault  and  the  murder,  and  should  accordingly  be  punished 
with  death. 

The  motive  actuating  him  he  held  to  be  revenge  on  Pres- 
ton, for  having,  long  previously,  debauched  his  wife  PhylKs. 
This  passion,  held  in  check  during  Preston's  lifetime  by  fear 
of  the  consequences  which  might  follow  its  indulgence,  had 
broken  out  after  his  death,  and  wreaked  itself  on  the  two 
defenceless  women. 

The  gentleman's  reasoning  was  not  very  cogent,  but,  what 
he  lacked  in  logic,  he  made  up  in  bitter  denunciation  of  Mu- 
lock,  who,  according  to  his  showing,  was  a  little  blacker  than 
the  prime  minister  of  the  lower  regions. 

As  he  took  his  seat,  Larkin  rose,  and,  addressing  himself 
to  both  the  jury  and  the  multitude,  spoke,  as  near  as  I  can 
recollect,  as  follows : 

"  Gintlemen,  this  yere  sort  o'  bis'ness  is  out  uv  my  line. 
I'm  not  used  ter  speechifyin',  an'  I  may  murder  whot's  called 
good  English  ;  but  I'd  a  durned  sight  ruther  murder  thet,  then 
ter  joodiciously,  or  ary  other  how,  murder  a  human  bein' ;  an' 
it's  my  private  'pinion  yJll  murder  Mulock,  ef  ye  bring' him 
in  guilty  uv  death. 

"A  man  hain't  no  right  ter  take  human  life,  'cept  in  self- 
defence.  Even  ef  Mulock  wus  so  bad  as  this  loryer  feller 
tries  ter  make  him  out— but  he  hain't,"  'cause  'tain't  in  natiir 
for  a  man  ter  be  wuss  than  th'  devil  himself—  ye'd  hev  no 
right  ter  stop  his  breath.  Ye  didn't  guv  it  ter  him  ;  it  doan't 
b'long  ter  ye,  an'  th'  lor  doan't  'low  ye  ter  take  what  hain't 


286  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

your'n.  Ef  ye  does,  it's  stealing  an'  I  knows  thet  none  on 
the  gintlemcn  uv  the  jury  ar  so  allfired  mean  as  ter  steal — 
'ticularly  ter  steal  whot  woan't  be  uv  no  sort  o'  use  ter  'em, 
nohow. 

"  The  loryer  yere,  hes  spread  hisself  on  Mulock's  motive 
fur  doin'  this  thing ;  'sistin'  thet  fur  seventeen  yar  he's  ben  a 
nussin'  suthin — nussin'  it  as  keerfully  as  a  mother  nusses  her 
chil'ren.  Now,  young  'uns  gin'rally  walks  when  thev's  'bout 
a  yar  old  ;  but  this  one  thet  Mulock's  ben  a  nussin'  didn't  git 
'round  till  it  wus  seventeen ;  an'  I  reckon  a  bantlin1  thet  karn't 
gwo  alone  afore  it's  thet  age,  woan't  never  do  much  hurt  ter 
nobody. 

"But  these  hain't  th'  raal  p'ints  uv  th'  case.  I'm  loryer 
'nuff  ter  tell  ye,  ye  must  gwo  on  th'  evidence  ;  an'  thai  hain't 
no  evidence  ter  show  thet  Mulock  hed  ary  thing  ter  do  with 
th'  whippin'  uv  his  wife  ;  an'  th'  murder  wus  in  thet.  He 
did — so  th'  nigs  say,  an'  I  reckon  ihe1  tells  th'  truth  ;  an' 
thet's  whot  nary  loryer  kin  do,  ef  he  try ;  so  ye  sees,  a  nig  is 
smarter  nor  a  loryer.  Wall,  the  nigs  say  he  holped  in  whip 
pin'  th'  white  'ooman ;  an',  as  'torney  fur  th'  truth,  gintle- 
men,  which  I'm  gwine  in  fur  yere,  I've  got  ter  'low  it.  He 
did  aid  an'  'bet,  as  the  loryer3  call  it,  in  thet,  an'  thet  proves 
him  'bout  as  mean  as  a  white  man  ever  gits  ter  be ;  an',  'side3 
thet,  he  did  sell  har  fur  twenty  dollars — a  'ooman  thet  even 
th'  'judge' — an'  he  ar  a  judge  uv  sech  things — wus  willin' 
ter  pay  twenty-five  hun'red  fur ;  he  did  sell  har  fur  twenty 
dollars ;  an'  thet  proves  him  a  fool !  Now,  fur  bein'  both 
mean  an'  a  fool,  I  'low  he  orter  be  punished.  But  doan't  ye  kill 
him,  gintlemen  !  Guv  it  ter  him  'cor din'  ter  his  natur  an'  his 
merits.     Just  luk  at  him.     Hev  ye  ever  seed  sech  a  face,  an' 


THE     LYNCHING.  287 

sech  an  eye  as  tliet,  in  ary  human  bein'  ?  Why,  his  eye  ar 
jest  like  a  snake's  ;  an'  it's  nat'ral,  ye  knows,  fur  snakes  ter 
crawl ;  the'  karn't  do  nuthin'  else,  an'  the'  hain't  ter  blame 
fur  it.  No  more  ye  karn't  blame  Muloek  fur  bein'  whot  he 
ar.  So  guv  him  a  coat  uv  tar — a  ride  on  a  rail — a  duckin'  in 
th'  pond — arything  thet's  'cordin'  ter  his  natur  an'  his  merits ; 
but  doan't  ye  take  'way  his  life  /  Ef  ye  does  thet,  he's  lost — 
lost  furever;  fur,  I  swar  ter  ye,  his  soul  ar  so  small,  thet  ef 
it  wus  once  out  uv  his  body,  th'  Lord  himself  couldn't  find 
it,  an'  th'  pore  feller'd  hev  ter  gwo  wand'rin'  'round  with 
nary  whar  ter  stay,  an'  nary  friends,  aither  in  heaven  or 
t'other  place  !  So  be  easy  with  him,  gintlemen.  Guv  him 
one  more  chance.  Let  him  stay  yere  a  spell  longer,  fur  yere 
his  soul  may  grow.  An'  it  kin  grow  !  Everything  in  natur 
grows — even  skunks  ;  an'  who  knows  but  Muloek  may  sprout 
out  yit,  an'  grow  ter  be  a  man  ! 

"  I'se  nuthin'  more  ter  say,  gintlemen,  only  this  :  Afore 
ye  make  up  yer  minds  ter  bring  Muloek  in  guilty  uv  death, 
jest  put  yerselfs  inter  his  place,  an'  ax  yerselfs  ef  yt'd  like 
ter  hev  a  rope  put  'round  yer  windpipe,  as  ye'd  put  it  'round 
his'n  !  Ef  ye  wudn't,  jest  remember,  'tain't  manly  ter  use 
ary  nother  man  in  a  how  ye  wudn't  like  ter  be  used  yerselfs. 
I'm  done." 

Larkin  was  frequently  interrupted,  during  the  delivery  of 
this  address,  by  the  loud  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  crowd  ; 
but,  at  its  close,  a  perfect  tornado  of  applause  swept  over  the 
multitude,  and  a  hundred  voices  called  out : 

"  No ;  doan't  ye  hang  him."  "  Give  him  one  more 
chance."  "  Doan't  gwo  more'n  the  tar."  "  Larkin's  a  lor- 
yer,  shore." 


28S  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Amid  these  and  similar  exclamations,  the  jury  retired  to 
the  little  grove  of  liveoaks.  In  about  fifteen  minutes  they 
returned  to  their  seats. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said  Gaston,  "  have  you  agreed 
on  your  verdict  ?  " 

"  'Greed  on  one  thing,  Major  Gaston,"  said  the  foreman, 
rising  ;    "  hain't  on  t'other." 

"  On  what  have  you  agreed  ?  " 

"  On  whippin'  th'  young  'ooman." 

"  What  say  you  on  that — guilty,  or  not  guilty  ?  " 

"  Guilty." 

"  And  so  say  you  all  ?  " 

"  Yas,  Major." 

11  How  do  you  stand  on  the  other  charge  ?  " 

"  Four  gwo  in  fur  guilty  ;  th'  rest  on  us  think  Jake  Larkin 
'bout  right  as  ter  hangin'  on  him." 

"  It  is  not  for  Mr.  Larkin,  or  you,  to  say  what  shall  be 
done  with  the  prisoner.  You  are  to  decide  whether  he  is  or 
is  not  guilty  of  instigating  the  murder  of  his  wife.  You  must 
retire  again,  until  you  agree  upon  that." 

u  'Twouldn't  be  uv  no  use,  Major.  "We  reckon  he's  mean 
'miff  ter  hev  done  it ;  but  whether  he  done  it,  or  no,  we  gwo 
fur  givin'  him  a  chance  ter  live." 

"  Ye're  white  men,  I  swar ! "  cried  Larkin,  springing 
from  his  seat,  and  grasping  the  hands  of  several  of  the  jurors 
in  turn. 

"  Take  your  seat,  and  observe  order,  Mr.  Larkin,"  said  the 
judge,  smiling  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  All  right,"  said  Larkin;  "ye're  some  as  a  judge,  Major — 
'bout  up  ter  me  as  a  loryer,  an'  thet's  sayin'  a  heap  ;  so  jest 
be  easy  on  th'  pore  devil.     Do,  yet  Honor  !  " 


THE     LYNCHING.  289 

u  Silence,  sir  !  "  said  Gaston,  laughing. 
Larkin  took  his  seat,  and  the  "judge  "  continued  : 
"  Prisoner,  you  have  heard  the  verdict.      Have  you  any- 
thing to  say  why  sentence  for  aiding  in  the  assault  on  the 
white  lady  should  not  now  be  passed  upon  you  ?  " 

"No,  Major  Gaston;  I've  nothin'  ter  say,"  said  Mulock, 
dejectedly. 

Gaston  continued :  "  You  have  been  tried  by  a  jury  of 
your  own  selection.  They  are  unanimous  in  pronouncing  you 
guilty  of  a  cowardly  and  unwarrantable  assault  on  a  white, 
woman.  They  evidently  deem  you  guilty  of  the  worse  crime 
of  abetting  the  murder  of  your  own  wife,  and  humane  feelings 
only  deter  them  from  saying  so.  In  these  circumstances,  I 
feel  it  my  duty  to  award  you  a  more  severe  punishment  than 
I  should  have  done  had  you  been  fully  acquitted  of  the  last 
charge.  I  shall  therefore  sentence  you  to  be  coated  with 
warm  tar,  ducked,  in  that  condition,  three  times  in  the  pond, 
and  then  ridden  on  a  rail  to  your  shop  at  Trenton ;  and  may 
this  example  of  public  indignation  lead  you  to  a  better  life 
in  future.  Mr.  Larkin,  I  commission  you  to  superintend  the 
execution  of  the  sentence." 

"  No,  ye  doan't,  Major— yer  Honor,  I  mean  !  I'll  stand 
by,  an'  see  Mulock  lies  far  play ;  but  I  woan't  do  nary  one's 
dirty  work,  I  swar." 

"Well,  who  will  volunteer  for  the  duty?"  said  Gaston, 
appealing  to  the  audience. 

About  a  score  of  "  natives  "  offered  themselves ;  but,  fix- 
ing his  eye  on  a  stout,  goodnatured-looking  man,  who  had  not 
volunteered,  Gaston  said  : 

"  Won't  you  do  it,  Mr.  Moore  ?  " 
13 


290  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

"  Yas,  ter  'blige  ye,  Major,  I  will,"  replied  the  man. 

The  "judge"  then  pronounced  the  court  adjourned,  and 
the  crowd  escorted  Mulock  and  the  impromptu  executioners  to 
the  site  of  the  old  distilleries.  There  an  iron  kettle  filled  with 
tar  was  already  simmering  over  a  light-wood  fire,  and,  being 
divested  of  his  borrowed  plumage,  Mulock  was  soon  clad  in  a 
close-fitting  suit  of  black.  He  was  about  to  be  led  to  the 
pond,  when  Ally  appeared  on  the  ground.  Making  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  he  called  out : 

"  De  young  missus  doan't  want  dis  ting  to  gwo  no  fudder. 
She'll  'sider  it  a  'tic'lar  favor  ef  de  gemmen'll  leff  Mulock 
gwo." 

"  We  karn't  let  him  off  without  consent  uv  the  judge," 
said  Mr.  Moore. 

A  messenger  was  sent  for  Gaston,  who  soon  appeared,  and 
consented  that  further  proceedings  should  be  stopped.  Mulock 
was  at  once  released,  and,  coatless,  hatless,  and  all  but  trouser- 
less,  he  made  his  way  through  the  hooting  multitude,  and  left 
the  plantation,  a  blacker,  if  not  a  wiser  and  a  better  man. 

As  we  walked  away  from  the  "  scene  of  execution,"  I  said 
to  the  negro-trader : 

"  Larkin,  you  should  have  been  a  lawyer ;  you  managed 
that  thing  admirably." 

"  Th'  boys  hed  got  thar  blood  up,  an'  I  know'd  I  couldn't 
clar  him.  A  man  stands  a  sorry  chance  in  sech  a  crowd,  ef 
they's  raally  bent  on  mischief." 

On  the  following  morning  the  remainder  of  the  negroes 
were  purchased  by  Joe;  and  in  the  afternoon  I  was  on  my 
way  home. 


CHAPTEE    XXVIII. 

" DEAD  !     DEAD  !  " 

As  I  was  sitting  in  my  library,  late  one  evening,  rather 
more  than  a  month  after  the  events  recorded  in  the  last  chap- 
ter, a  hasty  ring  came  at  the  street  door. 

"  Who  can  be  calling  so  late  ?  "  said  Kate.  "  Had  you 
not  better  go  ?  " 

Drawing  on  my  boots,  I  went  to  the  door.  As  I  opened 
it,  my  hand  was  suddenly  seized,  and  a  familiar  voice  ex- 
claimed : 

"  What  about  Selly  ?     How  is  she  ?  " 

"  Lord  bless  you,  Frank  !  is  this  you  ?  How  did  you  get 
here  ?  " 

"  How  is  Selma  ?     Tell  me  !  " 

"  Safe  and  well — in  Mobile,  with  Joe." 

"  Thank  God  !  thank  God  for  that !  " 

"  How  did  you  get  here  ?  " 

"  By  the  Africa ;  she's  below,  I  managed  to  get  up  by  a 
small  boat.     I  couldn't  wait." 

"  Weill  go  UP  stairs,     Your  mother  is  in  the  library." 

After  the  first  greeting  had  passed  between  Kate  and  the 
newcomer,  he  plied  me  with  questions  in  regard  to  Selma.  I 
told  him  all,  keeping  nothing  back.  Meanwhile,  he  walked 
the  room,  struggling  with  contending  emotions— now  joy,  now 


292  MY      SOUTHERN      FBI  ENDS. 

rage,  now  grief.  He  said  nothing  till  I  mentioned  Hallet's 
connection  with  the  affair ;  then  he  spoke,  and  his  words  came 
like  the  rushing  of  the  tornado  when  it  mows  down  the  trees. 

"  That  is  the  one  thing  too  much.  I  have  held  back  till 
now.     Now  he  dies  !  " 

"  Don.'t  say  that,  my  son  !  "  exclaimed  Kate.  "  Leave 
him  to  his  conscience,  and  to  God.  'Vengeance  is  mine,  I 
will  repay,  saith  the  Lord  ! '  " 

"  Vengeance  is  mine  !  Don't  talk  to  me,  mother !  I 
want  no  sermons  now  !  " 

She  looked  at  him  sadly  through  her  tears,  and  said : 

"  Have  I  deserved  this  of  you,  Frank  ?  " 

u  Forgive  me  !  forgive  me,  my  mother ! "  and  he  buried 
his  face  in  her  dress,  and  wept — wept  as  he  never  did  when  a 
child. 

A  half  hour  passed,  and  no  one  spoke.  Then  he  rose,  and 
said  to  me  : 

"  When  did  you  hear  from  her  last  ?  " 

u  I  had  a  letter  yesterday  ;  here  it  is,"  said  Kate.  "  You 
see,  she  is  expecting  you." 

He  took  it,  and  read  it  over  slowly.  All  trace  of  his 
recent  emotion  had  gone,  and  on  his  face  was  an  expression  I 
had  never  seen  there  before.  For  the  first  time  I  noticed  his 
resemblance  to  his  father  ! ' 

"  When  will  you  go  ?  "  continued  Kate. 

"I  don't  know.     I  cannot,  noiv." 

"  Why  not  now  f     What  is  there  to  prevent  ?  " 

"  I  must  go  home  first.     I  must  see  Cragin." 

"  Cragin  does  not  expect  you  for  a  fortnight,"  I  said  j 
"  you  can  be  back  by  that  time." 


"dead!    dead!"  293 

u  But  I  cannot  go  now  ! "  and  again  lie  rose,  and  walked 
the  room.      "  I'm  not  ready  yet.     My  mind  isn't  made  up." 
After  a  pause,   he   added  :     "  Would   yuu   have   me   marry   a 
—a  woman  of  negro  blood  ?  " 

u  I  would  have  you  do  as  your  feelings  and  your  conscience 
dictate.*' 

"  You  cannot  love  her,  if  you  ask  that  question,"  said 
Kate,  kindly,  but  sorowmlly. 

"  I  do  love  her.  I  love  her  better  than  man  ever  loved 
woman  ;  but  can  I  make  her  my  wife  ?  A  negro  wife  !  negro 
children  ! — ha  !  ha  !  "  and  he  clasped  his  hands  above  his 
head,  and  laughed  that  bitter,  hollow  laugh,  which  is  the  "sure 
echo  of  fearful  misery  within. 

"  I  cannot  advise  you,  my  son.  You  must  act,  now,  on 
your  own  judgment.  I  will  only  say,  that  through  it  all — 
when  put  at  slave  work — when  bound  to  the  whipping  stake — 
when  she  stood  on  the  auction  block  for  two  long  hours — she 
was  sustained  only  by  trust  in  you.  It  is  true — she  told  me 
so  ;  and  if  you  forsake  her  now,  it  will " 

"  Kill  her !  I  know  it !  I  know  it,  0  my  God  !  my 
God  ! "  and  he  groaned  in  agony — such  agony  as  I  never 
before  saw  rend  the  spirit  of  mortal  man. 

****** 

The  next  morning  he  started  for  Mobile.  Ten  days  after- 
ward, the  following  telegram  was  handed  me  : 

"  Selma  is  dead.  Frank  is  here,  raving  crazy.  Come  on 
at  once.  Preston." 

That  ni^ht  I  was  on  my  way,  and  that  day  week  I  reached 


294  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS 

Mobile.  The  first  person  I  met,  as  I  entered  Joe's  warehouse, 
was  Larkin. 

"  Where  is  Joe  ?  " 

"Ter  th'  plantation.  He's  lookin'  fur  ye.  I'll  tote  ye 
thar  ter  onst." 

In  half  an  hour  we  were  on  the  road.  "We  arrived  just 
before  dark,  and  at  once  I  entered  the  mansion.  Joe's  hand 
was  in  mine  in  a  moment. 

"  What  caused  this  terrible  thing  ? "  I  asked,  hastily, 
eagerly. 

u  I  don't  know.  When  he  arrived,  Frank  was  low-spirited 
and  moody,  but  very  glad  to  see  me.  I  brought  him  up  here 
at  once.  He  seemed  overjoyed  at  meeting  Selma,  and  would 
not  let  her  go  out  of  his  sight  for  a  moment.  Still  he 
appeared  excited  and  uneasy,  till  I  met  him  at  the  supper 
table.  Then  he  was  more  like  himself.  I  went  with  them 
into  the  parlor,  and  there  conversed  with  Frank  on  business 
matters  for  fully  two  hours.  We  planned  some  shipments  to 
Europe,  and  talked  over  sending  Larkin  to  Texas  to  buy  cattle 
for  the  New  Orleans  market.  We  agreed  on  it.  I  was  to 
provide  means,  by  keeping  ninety-day  drafts  afloat  on  them 
(I'm  short,  just  now,  having  paid  out  so  much  for  the  negroes), 
and  they  and  I  were  to  divide  the  profits  with  Larkin. 
Frank's  head  was  as  clear  as  a  bell.  I  had  no  idea  he  was  so 
good  a  business  man.  Well,  about  eight  o'clock  I  left  them 
together,  and,  a  little  after  nine,  went  to  bed.  Selma's  room 
is  next  to  mine,  and  it  couldn't  have  been  later  than  eleven 
when  I  heard  her  go  to  it. 

"  The  next  morning  she  didn't  come  down  as  usual.  I  had 
a  servant  call  her.     She  made  no  reply ;  but  I  thought  noth- 


"dead!    dead!"  295 

ing  of  it,  till  half  an  hour  afterward.  Then  I  went  up  myself. 
I  rapped  repeatedly,  but  got  no  answer.  Becoming  alarmed, 
I  sent  a  servant  for  an  axe.  Frank  brought  it  up,  and  I  but- 
tered down  the  door,  and  found  her  lying  on  the  bed,  dressed 
as  usual,  a  half-empty  bottle  of  laudanum  beside  her — dead  !  " 

"  My  God  !     And  Frank  made  her  do  it !  " 

"  Don't  say  that.  If  he  did,  he  is  fearfully  punished ;  he 
has  suffered  terribly." 

"Where  is  he?" 

u  In  the  front  room.  He  has  raved  incessantly.  At  first 
four  men  couldn't  hold  him.  Somehow,  he  got  a  knife,  and 
cut  himself  badly.  I  got  it  away,  but  he  threw  me  in  the 
struggle,  and  nearly  throttled  me.  He's  calmer  now,  and  I've 
had  him  untied ;  but  old  Joe  has  to  stay  with  him  night  and 
day.     Nobody  else  can  manage  him." 

TVe  went  into  the  room.  Frank  sat  in  one  corner,  pale, 
haggard,  only  the  shadow  of  what  he  was  but  ten  days  before. 
His  head  was  leaning  against  the  wall,  and  he  was  gazing  out 
of  the  window. 

As  I  entered,  "  Boss  Joe  "  came  forward  and  greeted  me, 
but  neither  of  us  spoke.  Approaching  Frank,  I  laid  my  hand 
on  his  shoulder. 

"  My  boy,  I  have  come  for  you." 

He  rose,  and  looked  at  me,  a  wild  glare  in  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  it's  high  time ;  I've  waited  long  enough.  I'm 
ready.  I  don't  deny  it — I  killed  her.  Make  short  work  of  it. 
I'd  have  saved  you  the  trouble,  but  this  infernal  nigger  told 
me  I'd  go  to  hell  if  I  did  it ;  and  I  know  she  isn't  there.  I 
want  to  see  her  again  !  I  want  her  to  forgive  me — to  forgive 
me !  Oh !  oh ! "  and  he  sank  into  his  chair,  and  moaned 
piteously. 


296  MY     SOUTHERN     F  EI  ENDS. 

"  He  tinks  you'm  de  sheriff,  massa  Kirke,"  whispered  Joe. 

I  leaned  over  him.  The  tears  started  from  my  eyes,  and 
fell  on  his  face,  as  I  said  : 

"  You  will  see  her  again.     She  does  pity  and  forgive  you." 

He  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  clutched  my  hands.  "  Do 
you  believe  it  ?  Joe  says  so  ;  but  Joe  is  a  nigger — and  what 
does  a  nigger  know  ? "  Then,  putting  his  mouth  close  to  my 
ear,  he  added  :  "  They  told  me  she  was  one.  It  was  false — 
false  as  hell ;  but " — and  he  threw  his  arms  above  his  head, 
and  groaned  the  rest — "  but  it  made  me  say  it.  0  my  God  ! 
my  God  !  it  made  me  say  it !  "  His  head  sank  on  my  shoul* 
der,  and  again  he  gave  out  those  piteous  moans. 

"  Have  comfort,  my  boy.  I  know  she  loves  and  pities  you 
now  /" 

He  looked  up.  "  Say  that  again !  For  the  love  of  God 
say  that  again  1 " 

"  It  is  so  !     As  sure  as  there's  another  life,  it  is  so  !  " 

He  gazed  at  me  fixedly  for  a  few  moments — then  again 
commenced  pacing  the  room. 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  it.  But  you  ought  to  know,;  you 
look  like  a  parson.     You  are  a  parson,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I'm  a  parson.     I  know  it  is  so  !  " 

"  Well,  tell  them  to  hurry  up.  I  want  to  go  to  her  at 
once^-now  /  I  can't  live  another  week  in  this  way.  Tell 
them  to  hurry  up." 

"  Yes,  I  will ;  and  you'll  go  with  me  to-morrow,  won't 
you?" 

He  gave  me,  again,  a  long,  scrutinizing  look.  "  You're 
the  sheriff,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"Yes." 


"dead!    dead!"  -07 

"  WeH,  then,  I'll  go  with  you.  But  you  must  promise  to 
make  short  work  of  it." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  I'll  promise  that.  But  lie  down,  now,  and  be 
quiet.     Til  be  ready  for  you  in  the  morning." 

"  Well,  well,  I'll  try  to  be  patient ; "  and  he  threw  him- 
self on  the  small  cot  in  one  corner  of  the  room.  "  But  you'll 
let  old  Joe  stay  with  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  certainly." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  Joe,  bring  me  a  cigar — that's  a  good 
fellow.  You're  the  decentest  nigger  I  ever  knew.  It's  an 
awful  pity  you're  black.  They  told  me  she  was  black.  Twaa 
an  infernal  lie !  I  know  it,  for  I  saw  her  last  night,  and  she 
was  whiter  than  any  woman  you  ever  saw.  Black  !  Pshaw  | 
nobody  but  the  devil's  black  ;  and  she — she's  an  angel  now  !  " 

As  we  passed  out  of  the  room,  Joe  said  to  me : 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  Selma  ?  " 

"  Have  you  kept  her  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  knew  you  would  want  to  see  her." 

He  led  the  way  up  stairs  to  her  chamber.  In  a  plain,  air- 
tight coffin,  lay  all  that  was  left  of  the  slave  girl.  Her  hands 
were  crossed  on  her  bosom  ;  her  long,  glossy,  brown  hair  fell 
over  her  neck,  and  on  her  face  was  the"  look  the  angels  wear. 
She  seemed  not  dead,  but  sleeping ! 

As  I  turned  away,  Joe  took  my  hand,  and,  while  a  nervous 
spasm  passed  over  his  face,  he  said : 

"  She  was  all  that  I  had  ;  but  I— I  forgive  him  !  " 

"  And  for  that,  God  will  forgive  you  I  " 

The  next  day  we  buried  her. 

****** 

"  Boss  Joe  "  accompanied  us  to  the  North.     We  reached 


298  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

home  just  after  dark.  When  we  entered  the  parlor,  Frank 
gazed  around  with  an  eager,  curious  look,  as  if  some  familiar 
scene  was  returning  to  him.  In  a  few  moments  Kate  en- 
tered. She  rushed  to  him,  and  clasped  him  in  her  arms.  He 
took  her  face  between  his  two  hands,  and  looked  long  and 
earnestly  at  her.  Then,  dropping  his  head  on  her  shoulder, 
and  bursting  into  tears,  he  cried : 

11  My  mother  !  0  my  mother  !  " 

He  had  awoke.  The  terrible  dream  was  over.  From  that 
moment  he  was  himself. 

What  passed  between  him  and  Selma  on  that  fatal  even- 
ing, I  never  knew.  He  has  not  spoken  her  name  since  that 
night. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 


CONCLUSION. 


Mrs.  Dawsey  lay  at  the  mansion,  under  guard,  for  sev- 
eral weeks.  When  finally  able  to  be  moved,  she  was  con- 
veyed to  the  "  furnished  apartments "  bespoken  for  her  by 
Joe.  Her  husband,  after  a  short  confinement  in  jail,  was  set 
at  liberty,  and  then  made  strenuous  efforts  to  effect  his  wife's 
release  on  bail.  He  did  not  succeed.  Public  feeling  ran  very 
high  against  her ;  and  that,  probably  more  than  the  fact  that 
she  was  charged  with  an  unbailable  crime,  operated  to  prolong 
her  residence  at  the  public  boarding  house  kept  for  runaway 
slaves  and  common  felons  at  Trenton. 

At  the  next  session  of  the  "  county  court,"  after  an  im- 
prisonment of  four  months,  she  was  arraigned  for  trial.  Owing 
to  the  death  of  Selma,  Mulock  was  the  only  white  witness 
against  her.  He  told  a  straightforward  story,  the  most  rigid 
cross-examination  not  swerving  him  from  it,  and  deposed  to 
Dawsey's  having  attempted  to  bribe  him  to  go  away.  His 
evidence  was  conclusive  as  to  the  prisoner's  guilt ;  but  her 
counsel,  an  able  man,  made  so  damaging  an  assault  on  his  per- 
sonal character,  that  the  jury  disagreed.  Mrs.  Dawsey  was 
then  remanded  to  jail  to  await  a  new  trial,  at  the  next  sitting 
of  the  court. 


oOO  MY      SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Shortly  after  the  trial,  Mulock  suddenly  disappeared, 
Hearing  of  it,  and  suspecting  he  had  been  spirited  away  by 
Dawsey,  Joseph  Preston  went  to  Trenton,  and,  procuring  a 
judge's  order  for  Mulock's  arrest  as  an  absconding  witness, 
caused  a  thorough  search  to  bo  made  for  him  in  Jones  and  the 
adjoining  counties.  He  himself  visited  Chalk  Level,  in  Har- 
nett County,  and  there  found  him,  living  again  with  his  white 
wife.  That  lady  had  previously  won  and  lost  a  second  spouse, 
but,  it  appeared,  was  then  in  such  straits  for  another  husband, 
that  she  was  willing  to  take  up  with  her  own  cast-off  house- 
hold furniture.  Whether  a  new  marriage  ceremony  was  per- 
formed, or  not,  I  never  learned  ;  but  I  have  been  reliably 
informed  that  Mulock  complained  bitterly  of  his  wife  for 
having  defrauded  him  of  twenty -five  of  the  fifty  dollars  she 
had  agreed  to  pay  as  consideration  for  his  again  sharing  her 
"  bed  and  board." 

Mulock  admitted  having  received  four  hundred  dollars  from 
Dawsey  for  absenting  himself,  and  gave  as  excuse  for  accept- 
ing the  bribe,  his  conviction  that  Mrs.  Dawsey  could  not  be 
found  guilty  on  Ms  testimony.  After  his  arrest  he  was  con- 
lined  in  the  same  jail  with  the  "  retired  "  schoolmistress. 

The  second  trial  was  approaching ;  but,  late  on  the  night 
preceding  the  sitting  of  the  court,  the  jailer's  house — which 
adjoined  and  communicated  with  the  prison — was  forcibly  en- 
tered by  four  armed  men  disguised  as  negroes.  They  bound 
and  gagged  the  jailer,  his  wife,  and  two  female  servants,  and, 
seizing  the  keys,  entered  the  jail,  and  carried  Mulock  off  by 
force.  The  keeper  heard  a  desperate  struggle,  and  it  was  sup- 
posed Mulock  was  foully  dealt  by.  The  footprints  of  four 
men  were  the  next  morning  detected  leading  to  a  spot  on  the 


CONCLUSION.  301 

bank  of  the  river,  where  a  boat  appeared  to  have  been  moored  ; 
but  there  all  traces  were  lost,  and  the  overseer's  fate  is  still 
shrouded  in  mystery. 

Mrs.  Dawsey,  whose  cell  adjoined  Mtdock's,  was  not  dis- 
turbed, but  public  suspicion  connected  her  husband  with  the 
affair.  There  was,  however,  no  evidence  against,  him,  and  he 
went  "  unwhipt  of  justice." 

The  lady  was  arraigned  for  trial  on  the  following  day,  but, 
no  witnesses  appearing  against  her,  she  was — after  a  tedious 
confinement  of  ten  months — set  at  liberty.  Thus,  at  last,  she 
achieved  "  a  plantation  and  a  rich  planter ; "  but  her  darling 
object  in  life — to  lead  and  shine  in  society,  for  which  her  edu- 
cation and  character  peculiarly  fitted  her — she  missed.  With 
the  exception  of  her  brutal  husband,  an  ignorant  overseer,  and 
a  superannuated  "  schulemarm,"  imported  from  the  North,  she 
has  no  associates.  Society  has  built  up  a  wall  about  her,  and, 
with  the  brand  of  Cain  on  her  forehead,  she  is  going  through 
the  world. 

Larkin,  after  breaking  off  his  connection  with  his  "  re- 
spectable "  associates,  descended  from  trading  in  human  cattle, 
to  trafficking  in  fourfooted  beasts  and  all  manner  of  horned 
animals.  Joe  offered  him  an  interest  in  his  business ;  but  the 
negro-trader  had  too  long  led  a  roving  life  to  be  content  with 
the  dull  routine  of  regular  business.  Young  Preston,  and  Cra- 
gin,  Mandell  &  Co.,  stipulating  for  a  half  of  his  profits,  then 
furnished  him  a  capital  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  ;  and  with 
that  he  embarked  largely  in  "  cattle  driving."  He  bought  in 
Texas,  and  sold  in  New  Orleans,  and  did  a  profitable  business 
until  the  breaking  out  of  the  rebellion.  Since  that  event  he 
has  been  an  officer  in  the  confederate  army. 


302  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

Frank  remained  at  my  house  for  a  fortnight  after  his 
return  from  the  South,  and  then,  apparently  restored,  went  to 
Boston.  Business  had  grown  distasteful  to  him,  and  he  sought 
a  dissolution  with  Cragin ;  but  the  latter  prevailed  on  him  to 
remain  in  the  firm,  and  go  to  Europe.  He  continued  there 
until  news  reached  Liverpool  of  the  fall  of  Fort  Sumter, 
when  he  took  the  first  steamer  for  home.  Arriving  in  Boston, 
he  at  once  effected  a  dissolution  with  Cragin,  and  then  came  on 
to  New  York  to  make  his  "  mother "  a  short  visit  prior  to 
entering  the  army.  He  expressed  the  intention  of  enlisting  as 
a  private,  and  I  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  it,  by  representing 
how  readily  he  could  raise  a  company  in  Boston,  and  go  as  an 
officer. 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  I  know  nothing  of  tactics.  I  am 
unfit  to  lead ;  I  can  only  fire  a  musket.  With  one  on  my 
shoulder,  I  will  go,  and  sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  I  can." 

On  the  18th  of  May,  1861,  he  left  New  York,  as  a  private 
in  Duryee's  Zouaves  (5th  Regiment  N.  Y.  V.),  and  on  the 
10th  of  June  following,  while  fighting  bravely  by  the  side  of 
York,  Winthrop,  and  Greble,  at  Big  Bethel,  fell,  badly  wound- 
ed by  a  musket  ball. 

When  he  was  fit  to  be  moved,  I  had  him  conveyed  home. 
His  recovery  was  slow,  but,  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  go  out, 
and  still  suffering  from  his  wound,  he  went  on  to  Boston 
to  Tender  Cragin  some  assistance  in  his  business.  General 
Butler's  expedition  was  then  fitting  out  for  New  Orleans. 
"Weak  as  he  was,  Frank  raised  a  company  of  Boston  boys  for 
it.  and  went  off  as  their  captain. 

He  was  present  at  the  bombardment  and  capture  of  New 
Orleans ;  but,  growing  weary  of  the  inactivity  which  followed 


CONCLUSION.  303 

those  events,  and  hearing  of  the  stirring  times  in  Tennessee, 
he  resolved  to  resign  Lis  commission,  and  seek  service  in  the 
Western  army. 

After  his  resignation  had  been  accepted,  and  on  the  eve  of 
his  departure  for  the  North,  as  he  was  returning  one  night  to 
his  lodgings,  he  was  accosted  by  a  woman  of  the  street.  Her 
face  seemed  familiar,  and  he  asked  her  name.  She  answered, 
"  Rosey  Preston."  He  went  with  her  to  her  home — a  miser- 
able room  in  the  third  story  of  a  tumbledown  shanty  in  Char- 
tres  street — and  there  found  her  child,  a  bright  little  fellow  of 
about  six  years.  With  them,  on  the  following  day,  he  sailed 
for  the  North. 

Arriving  here,  he  settled  on  Rosey  the  income  of  a  small 

sum,  and  procured  her  apartments  in  a  modest  tenement  house 

in  East  Thirtieth  street.     There  she  now  works  at  her  needle, 
t 

and  the  little  boy  attends  a  public  school. 

Within  the  week  of  Frank's  arrival,  and  when  he  was 
about  setting  out  for  the  West,  I  was  surprised,  one  morning, 
by  Ally's  appearance  in  my  office.  Newbern  had  fallen,  and 
he  had  made  his  way,  with  his  mother,  into  the  Union  lines, 
and,  after  a  good  deal  of  difficulty,  had  secured  passage  on 
a  return  transport  to  New  York.  I  provided  employment 
for  Dinah,  but  Ally  insisted  on  going  into  the  war  with 
Frank.  He  went  as  his  servant,  but  fought  at  his  side  at 
Lawrenceburgh,  Dog  Walk,  Chaplin  Hills,  and  Frankfort,  and 
in  three  of  those  engagements  was  wounded.  His  bones  now 
whiten  the  plains  of  Tennessee.  Rosey  he  never  met,  and 
never  forgave. 

Frank  was  with  that  small  body  of  regulars  at  Murfrees- 
borough,  who,  on  the  31st  of  December,  checked  the  advance 


304  MY     SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

of  Hardee's  corps  after  McCook's  division  had  been  driven  from 
the  field,  and  saved  the  day.  He  was  wounded  in  the  arm, 
early  in  the  morning,  but  kept  the  field,  and  joined  in  that 
heroic  movement  when  fifteen  hundred  men  marched  through 
an  open  field,  and  charged  upon  a  body  of  ten  thousand 
posted  in  a  dense  grove  of  cedars.  Six  hundred  and  forty-six 
of  the  brave  band  were  left  on  the  field.  Frank  was  among 
them.  A  Belgian  ball  pierced  his  left  side,  and  came  out  at 
his  back.  He  saw  and  recognized  the  man  who  gave  the 
wound,  and,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  fired  a  last  shot.  It 
did  its  work.  The  rebel  lies  buried  on  the  spot  where  Frank 
fell. 

The  telegram  which  informed  me  of  this  event,  said :  "  Tie 
is  desperately  wounded,  but  may  survive."  He  is  now  at 
home,  slowly  recovering.  What  he  saw  and  did  while  serving 
in  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  I  may  at  some  future  time  narrate 
to  the  reader. 

In  relating  actual  events,  a  writer  cannot  in  all  cases  visit 
artistic  justice  on  every  one  of  his  characters ;  for,  in  real 
life,  retribution  does  not  always  appear  to  follow  crime. 
But,  whatever  appearances  may  be,  who  is  there  that  doe3 
not  feel  that  virtue  is  ever  its  own  reward,  and  vice  its  own 
punishment?  and  what  one  of  my  readers  would  exchange 
"a  quiet  conscience,  void  of  offence  toward  God  and  toward 
man,"  for  the  princely  fortune  of  John  Hallet — who  is  still 
the  great  merchant,  the  "exemplary  citizen,"  the  "honest 
man"? 


LAST    WORDS. 

"Whoever  comes  before  the  American  public  in  a  time  of 
great  deeds,  like  this,  with  mere  words,  should  have  no  idle 
story  to  tell.  He  should  have  something  to  say ;  some  fact 
to  relate,  or  truth  to  communicate,  which  may  awaken  his 
countrymen  to  a  true  estimate  of  their  interests,  or  a  true  sense 
of  their  duties. 

The  writer  of  this  book  has  something  to  say  ;  some  facts 
to  relate  which  have  not  been  told ;  some  truths  to  communi- 
cate about  Southern  life  and  society,  which  the  public  ought  to 
know.  Some  of  these  facts,  gathered  during  sixteen  years  of 
intimate  business  and  social  intercourse  with  the  planters  and 
merchants  of  the  South,  he  has  endeavored  to  embody  in  this 
volume. 

He  has  woven  them  into  a  story,  but  they  are  never- 
theless facts,  and  all  of  them,  excepting  one,  occurred  under 
his  own  observation.  That  one — the  death  of  old  Jack — was 
communicated  to  him,  as  a  fact,  by  his  friend,  Dr.  W.  H. 
Holcombe,  of  Waterproof,  La.,  now  an  officer  in  the  confed- 
erate army. 

The  author  does  not  mean  to  say  that  his  story  is  true  as  a 
connected  whole.  It  is  not.  In  it,  persons  are  brought  into 
intimate  relations  who  never  had  any  connection  in  life ; 
events  are  grouped  together  which  happened  at  widely  differ- 


306  MY      SOUTHERN     FRIENDS. 

ent  times ;  and  events  are  described  as  occurring  in  the  vicinity 
of  Newbern — the  slave  auction,  for  instance — parts  of  which 
occurred  in  Alabama,  parts  in  Georgia,  and  parts  in  Louisiana. 
But  all  of  the  characters  he  has  described  have  lived,  and  all 
of  the  events  he  has  related  have  transpired.  He  would  not, 
however,  have  the  reader  believe  that  all  which  he  says  of 
himself  is  true.  Some  of  it  is ;  some  of  it  is  not.  The  story 
needed  something  to  revolve  around  ;  and,  as  he  commenced 
by  using  the  personal  pronoun,  he  continued  its  use,  even  in 
parts — like  the  scenes  jrith  Hallet — wherein  the  /  stands  for 
altogether  another  individual. 

The  real  name  of  the  character  whom  he  has  called  Selma 
(he  can  state  this  without  wounding  the  feelings  of  any  one, 
as  none  of  her  relatives  are  now  living),  was  Selma  "Winches- 
ter. She  was  educated  at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  was  a  slave,  and 
died  of  a  broken  heart  shortly  after  being  put  at  menial  labor 
in  her  mother-in-law's  kitchen.  Her  character  and  appearance, 
even  the  costume  she  wore  on  the  occasion  of  her  visit  to  the 
opera — a  scene  which  many  residents  of  Boston  and  vicinity 
will  remember — is  attempted  to  be  described  literally.  She 
was  not  the  daughter  of  Preston ;  her  father  was  a  very  differ- 
ent sort  of  man.  Nor  was  she  sold  at  auction.  The  young 
woman  who  was  engaged  to  "  Frank  Mandell,"  and  bought  at 
that  sale  by  her  brother,  was  equally  as  accomplished,  though 
not  so  beautiful  as  Selma.  She  committed  suicide,  as  herein 
related.  The  author  has  blended  the  two  characters  into  one, 
but  in  no  particular  has  he  departed  from  the  truth. 

The  gentleman  called  Preston  in  the  story  was  for  many 
years  one  of  the  writer's  correspondents.  He  had  two  wives, 
such  as  are  described,  and  wTas  the  father  of  Joe  and  Rosey, 


LAST     WORDS.  307 

whose  connection  was  as  is  related.  He  was  not  the  owner  of 
u  Boss  Joe."  The  original  of  that  character  belonged  (and 
the  writer  trusts  still  belongs)  to  a  cotton  planter  in  Alabama. 
He  managed  two  hundred  hands,  and  in  no  respect  is  he  over- 
drawn in  the  story.  His  sermon  is  repeated  from  memory, 
and  is  far  inferior  to  the  original.  He  was  a  Swedenborgian, 
and  one  of  the  finesf  natural  orators  the  writer  ever  listened 
to.  Old  Deborah  was  his  mother,  and  died  comfortably  in  her 
bed.  The  old  woman  who  fell  dead  on  the  auction  block,  was 
the  nurse  of  the  young  woman  who  was  engaged  to  Frank. 
The  excitement  of  the  scene,  and  her  anxiety  for  her  M  young 
missus,"  killed  her. 

Larkin's  real  name  is  Jacob  Larkin.  He  was  at  one  time 
connected  with  the  person  called  Hallet.  He  was  well  known 
in  many  paris  of  the  South,  and  relinquished  negro-trading 
under  circumstances  similar  to  those  related  in  the  story.  He 
is  now — though  a  rebel  in  arms  against  his  country — an  honest 
man. 

John  Hallet,  the  writer  is  sorry  to  say,  is  also  a  real 
character ;  but  he  does  not  disgrace  the  good  city  of  Boston. 
He  operates  on  a  wider  field. 

****** 

That  most  excellent  woman,  Mrs.  C.  M.  Kirkland,  said  to 
the  author,  shortly  after  the  fall  of  Fort  Sumter :  "  If  you  can- 
not shoulder  a  musket,  you  can  blow  a  bugle."  In  this,  and 
in  a  previous  book,  he  has  attempted  to  blow  that  bugle.  If 
the  blasts  are  not  as  musical  as  they  might  be,  he  has  no  apol- 
ogy to  make  for  them.  They  have,  at  least,  the  ring  of  truth ; 
and  whether  they  please  the  public  ear,  or  not,  the  author  is 


308  MY     SOUTHERN     FEIENDS. 

satisfied.  It  is  no  unimportant  part  of  the  great  war  for  free- 
dom to  know  the  social  condition  of  our  enemies,  and  the  actual 
influence  of  the  institution  which  inspires  such  hatred  for  us. 
Knowing  the  truth,  we  can  better  determine  whether  it  should 
form  a  part  of  our  policy  to  oppose  or  sustain  that  institution. 


THE     END. 


AMONG     THE     PI  NES. 

By  EDMUND  KIRKE, 

AUTHOR    OF    UMT    SOUTHERN    FRIENDS." 

A    NEW  EDITION  JUST  READY. 

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AMONG    THE    PINES. 


The  success  that  has  attended  the  publication  of  "  Among  the  Pines," 
has  been  of  the  most  extraordinary  character.  It  is  extravagantly  praised 
by  every  one,  both  as  the  most  truthful  picture  of  Southern  life  ever  pub- 
lished, as  well  as  a  work  of  dramatic  and  powerful  interest.  The  sale  has 
already  exceeded  30,000  copies,  and  bids  fair  soon  to  double  that  number. 


The  North  American  Quarterly,  in  a  twelve-page  review  of  this  won- 
derful work,  says:  "  The  book  is  not  a  novel :  yet  it  possesses  the  attrac- 
tion of  a  highly  wrought  and  powerful  work  of  fiction.  It  has  an  intense 
and  terrible  interest  in  some  parts  of  its  story,  and  the  scenes,  incidents, 
and  characters  are  portrayed  with  uncommon  graphic  and  dramatic  power. 
Yet  the  work  is  not  only  not  a  regular  novel,  but  we  are  assured  there  is 
absolutely  nothing  fictitious  in  it,  save  in  the  alteration  of  a  few  names 
and  dates.     *     *     *     A  very  remarkable  book." 


The  Providence  Journal  says :  "  It  is  one  of  the  most  readable  books 
on  Southern  life  we  have  ever  seen.  The  pictures  which  the  author  gives 
of  the  working  of  peculiar  institutions  are  not  surpassed  by  the  most  tragic 
scenes  so  vividly  portrayed  by  Mrs.  Stowe  in  '  Uncle  Tom;s  Cabin.' " 


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hand  of  an  artist,  and  throws  together  incidents  and  develops  scenes  that 
stir  the  blood  in  every  vein  in  the  body." 


The  JV.  Y.  Independent  calls  it  "  A  striking  and  truthful  portraiture  of 
slave  society ;  a  powerful  and  even  painful  story,  and  worth  rcad'vg  far 
more  for  instruction  than  for  pleasure.  The  story  is  clear  and  terrible  with 
the  lurid  light  of  the  passions,  miseries  and  violence,  that  grow  out  of 
slavery." 

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New  domestic  novel,  by  the"author  of  "  Lena  Rivers,"  etc.  $1.50. 

Lena  Rivers. 
A  popular  American  novel,  by  Mrs.  Mary  J.  Holmes,  $1.50. 

A  Book  about  Doctors. 
An  entertaining  volume  about  the  medical  profession.      $1.50. 

The  Adventures  of  Verdant  Green. 
Humorous  novel  of  English  College  life.     Illustrated.     $1.25. 

The  Culprit  Fay. 
Joseph  Rodman  Drake's  faery  poem,  elegantly  printed,  co  cts. 

Doctor  Anlonio. 
A  charming  love-tale  of  Italian  life,    by  G.  Ruffini,  $1.50. 

Laviuia. 
A  new  love-story,  by  the  author  of  "  Doctor  Antonio,"  $1.50. 

Dear  Experience. 
An  amusing  Parisian  novel,  by  author  "  Doctor  Antonio,"  $  1 .00. 

The  Life  of  Alexander  Ton  Humboldt. 
A  new  and  popular  biography  of  this  savant,  including  his 
travels  and  labors,  with  introduction  by  Bayard  Taylor,  $1.50. 

Love  (L'Amonr.) 
A  remarkable  volume,  from  the  French  of  Michelet.     $1.25. 

Woman  (La  Pemme.) 
A  continuation  of  "  Love  (L'Amour),"  by  same  author,  $1.25. 

The  Sea  (La  Mcr.) 
New  work  by  Michelet,  author  "  Love"  and  "  Woman,"  $1 .25. 

The  Moral  History  of  Woman. 
Companion  to  Michelet's  "  L'Amour,"  from  the  French,  $l.z5 

Mother  Goose  for  Grown  Folks. 
Humorous  and  satirical   rhymes  for  grown   people,     75  cts. 

The  Kelly's  and  the  Of Kelly's. 
Novel  by  Anthony  Trollope,  author  of "  Doctor  Thome,"  $1 .50, 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wi  liner 
493 


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